Please Remind Me
by wolfienur
Summary: "I'm Gwaine." "I didn't ask." "Well, I just thought you should know the name of the person you're following." "I wasn't following—oh, forget it!" Gwaine/OC. First chapter features twelve-year-old!Gwaine.
1. Chapter 1

**If you know who Gwaine is, chances are you don't need a spoiler warning. Hope you enjoy. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Early morning sunlight streamed through the window; it was a fine summer day – a hunting day, Gwaine decided. He slid out of the tiny bed he shared with his mother. The other side was cold, meaning she had already gotten up and left for work – a whole day spent working on other people's farms. Gwaine rolled his shoulders and stretched, his body sore from having to be contorted to fit onto such a small bed. He was getting bigger, taller. At twelve years old, he was no longer a child. Soon, maybe even tonight, he would have to start sleeping on the floor.

There was a somewhat frightening growling sound and Gwaine winced, realizing it was coming from his stomach. He pulled on a shirt and a pair of boots, both of which were a pinch too small for him now and more than a little worn. He raided the small kitchen's cupboards and found half a loaf of bread and two bruised apples. He inhaled one of the apples and left the rest for his mother, who would be ravenous when she returned home. His stomach roared once more, dissatisfied with what he had to offer. _There, there,_ thought Gwaine, patting his abdomen absent-mindedly as he grabbed his late father's bow and arrows and went out the door. _I'll get you something. But for now I'd thank you to shut up._

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><p>"Tori!"<p>

The sound of her mother's voice jolted Victoria out of her daydream, in which she was riding a galloping horse on her way to some great adventure. Sheepish, she made her way inside to find Miranda, her mother, hunched over a working table with her latest creation – a beautiful gown made with red, white and gold silk. Miranda herself only wore a dull blue dress. The dress on the table wasn't for her, after all. It was for the Lady Yolande, one of King Carleon's many beautiful daughters. The money made from selling this dress would be enough to feed Tori's family for months.

"Yes, Mother?" she said.

"Aunt Margaret said she would have the fabric I asked for ready by today. Go fetch it for me, won't you, darling?"

"Sure, Mother," Tori replied, working hard to keep in her sigh. Aunt Margaret's house was on the other side of the village, near the woods. She always tried to keep away from that side, hating the eerie sounds of unknown beasts hidden among the trees. She smiled wryly at herself. _Look at me, wanting to ride off on adventures yet too afraid to face some animals._

She grabbed an empty basket to carry the cloth in and headed outside. It was still early morning but the sun wasn't shy. It spilled its light onto the entire town, making the place and the people look brighter and happier than usual. Shopkeepers and fruit and vegetable vendors smiled at Tori as she walked by, wishing her a good morning. She couldn't help but smile back, feeling everyone's happiness override her qualms about the woods. Maybe going to Aunt Margaret's house wasn't such a bad thing after all. She much preferred the beach on her side of town, but it wouldn't hurt to expand her horizons a bit.

A while later she was knocking on Aunt Margaret's door. Aunt Marge's daughter, Elen, answered.

"Morning, Tor!" she chirped, opening the door wider to let her cousin in.

"Morning," Tori smiled as she stepped inside, instantly affected by Elen's infectious warmth.

"Are you looking for Mother?"

"Yes. Is she here?"

"'Fraid not. She's gone to the market. But she told me, that if you came round, to give you these," said Elen, opening a small cupboard and pulling out rolls and rolls of beautiful cloth.

"Thanks, Elen," said Tori, holding out her basket while her cousin assembled the rolls artfully. And when she was finished, "I should get these back quickly. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Elen caught the sleeve of Tori's dress before she could turn. "Wait, Tori. I wanted to ask you – what do you think of this?" She turned around and gestured toward her flaxen hair which was intricately bound by a velvet sea-green ribbon that matched her eyes.

Tori studied it a moment, admiring. "It's beautiful."

"D'you really think so? I spent ages on it. I'm going to see him today!"

"Who?"

"Henry!"

"Oh." Elen was twelve; only one year older than Tori, but she had such a keener interest in boys – Tori couldn't understand it. It was only a few years ago that the two of them had sat whispering together in corners about the evils of boys, and now she was spending time with one. "Well, have fun. I'm sure he'll like the ribbon. And you."

Elen beamed and gave Tori a hug, before ushering her out the door, leaving her feeling deflated and somehow tired. She stood on the doorstep for a while, not wanting to go home just yet, wanting to be outside a little longer. Without knowing why, Tori found herself staring off into the woods, trying to see past the dark tree branches. She wondered if there were bandits out there right at this moment. Maybe they –

Her train of thought was abruptly cut off as she caught sight of a young dark-haired boy. He couldn't have been much older than she was but he was wearing a bow, a quiver of arrows and a somber expression that would have much better suited someone older. The boy was walking purposefully toward the woods. She suddenly knew who he was. Their town was a small one and she'd seen him around often enough – smiling and joking – though they had never spoken. He was quite well-known in the village. People talked about him. Partly because he had a dead nobleman for a father, but mostly because…well, Tori didn't really know. His looks, she supposed. She knew girls – older girls – who pretended to turn up their noses at him, yet she'd always noticed little wistful sighs leaving their lips. If only he were older, she knew they thought. Then it wouldn't be so inappropriate.

Tori observed the back of his head as he entered the forest. She wondered what he was going to do in there. Hunt down beasts? Kill bandits? Out of nowhere, Tori was seized by an overwhelming curiosity. She sensed an adventure waiting for her amongst those trees. She wanted to do something she'd never done before, something unexpected. A little rash, even. Her legs tingled with the yearning, almost as if like if she didn't start walking toward the forest right now she would combust.

She followed after the boy.

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><p>After what seemed like hours, the excited curiosity had worn off and all Tori felt now was miserable. It had rained the previous night – and it looked as if it would rain again soon; the bright sun was no longer anywhere to be found – making the ground muddy and wet. Tori's feet sunk into the soft earth, the hem of her dress dragged through the mud and her arm ached from carrying the heavy basket of cloth. She felt foolish, now, for acting so impulsively. It really was unlike her. <em>I am never going to do this again. <em>Finally, she stopped to look around. The woods were filled with strange noises that made her skin crawl and a thick canopy of leaves kept most of the sun's rays from penetrating through. The overall effect of this was…not pleasant. As if that weren't enough, the ground in front of Tori was smooth as glass. Perfect. On top of it all, she had lost the boy's trail. Now she was just wandering aimlessly about.

That is, until the arrow shot past her head.

Tori let out a startled yelp and staggered backwards. Her dress got caught on a stray tree root and, with nothing to hold on to, she fell.

"Hm. You're not a deer," said a voice from a few feet away. Tori glanced up and, seeing as it was the boy, hastily got to her feet. The boy came closer. He had dark wavy hair that he'd obviously not bothered to cut in some time, and a dead squirrel hanging by his belt. The squirrel didn't bother her as much as she knew it would have bothered other girls – like Elen. Having a butcher for a father had made Tori accustomed to seeing dead animals. Morbid, but true. However, something about the mischievous glint in the boy's eyes not only unsettled her, but made her livid. Well, that, and the fact that he'd almost impaled her brain.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she snapped. "You could have killed me!"

"I'm hunting," said the boy, gesturing to his bow. "I thought you were a deer."

"What _on earth _made you think I was a deer?"

The boy grinned at her brunette hair and mud-covered form. "You're very brown." Then, sensing this was not a very flattering thing to say to a girl, added, "And your eyes."

Tori's face had turned bright red with indignation and embarrassment at the 'brown' comment, but she had to ask. "What? What about my eyes?"

"Well, they're quite doe-like, aren't they?" the boy answered, amused by her acidic tone.

As if just to contradict him, Tori narrowed her dark blue eyes and didn't reply.

"I'm Gwaine."

"I didn't ask."

"Well, I just thought you should know the name of the person you're following."

"I wasn't following you!"

"Oh, I think you were."

"I wasn't! Don't be so full of yourself."

"What were you doing, then?"

"I…was…" Tori's eyes darted around, trying to find a plausible reason for her to be in the woods. Instead, they landed on her basket full of fabric, lying upturned in a puddle of mud. "Oh…oh, please _no_."

"What is it?" asked Gwaine. He was ignored.

"No, no, no, Mother's going to _kill_ me," Tori groaned, kneeling beside the basket and inspecting each of the rolls, hoping in vain for one that remained unsoiled. Gwaine knelt down beside her and whistled.

"Those must have been expensive."

"Not really," Tori replied automatically, momentarily forgetting she was angry at him. "We got a good price for them since they were made by Aunt— Oh, God!"

"What? _What_?" said Gwaine, becoming quite worried about the way she was moaning, with her face buried in her hands.

"I'm going to be killed by both Mother _and _Aunt Marge!" Tori muttered, her voice muffled.

Gwaine couldn't help it – he laughed. Tori lifted her head and scowled at him, irritated once more. When he continued to laugh, she gathered her things and got up huffily, stomping away…or _attempted _to stomp, more like. The soft ground somewhat lessened the effect.

"Oh, come on…don't…don't be like…that," Gwaine gasped between his laughter.

Tori turned on him, fuming. "It's your fault I dropped my basket and you have the gall to laugh at me for being upset?"

"Hang on," said Gwaine, the smile fading from his face. "None of this would've happened if you hadn't been following me in the first place. Why were you, anyway?"

"I've told you, I wasn't following—oh, forget it!" She turned on her heel, not bothering to waste her energy on coming up with a good enough lie.

"Fine!" Gwaine shouted at her retreating back. "It's forgotten! Good luck finding your way back! The rain's going to clear away all your tracks soon!" This was true. Dark clouds had gathered with surprising swiftness; it was already starting to drizzle. What had started out as a beautiful morning had now turned as moody as…well, the girl.

The girl ignored him, and Gwaine – usually easy-going – became irritated. After all, it wasn't _his_ fault she had followed him; wasn't his fault she'd startled him into releasing that arrow; wasn't his fault she was clumsy enough to have dropped the basket; and it most definitely was _not _his fault that she was about to get hopelessly lost.

In fact, all of those things were _her _fault. In addition: she'd cost him a hunting day! Gwaine had only managed to shoot one scrawny squirrel before he'd heard the girl behind him. He couldn't hear her now, over the sound of rain drops pelting down on leaves, but he knew – just _knew _she was lost. She didn't seem the kind to be perfectly at home in the woods like he was. Her mother was most likely a seamstress, judging by the amount of fabric in that basket, and seamstresses usually spent a lot of time indoors.

With a groan, Gwaine started trudging in the direction the girl had gone in – the wrong direction. If he let her walk that way any further, she would never get home and that would be forever stained upon his conscience.

When he finally caught up with her, she wasn't moving. Just standing still in the middle of the path, shielding her eyes from the rain. Gwaine could almost hear her thinking _I can't be lost, I can't be._

"You're going the wrong way," said Gwaine, having to shout a little to be heard over the rain. The girl whirled around, startled. When she saw it was him, she frowned and clutched her basket closer to her, as if afraid that his mere presence would be enough to topple it. Not that it would have made any difference; the cloth was all soaked through anyway.

"No I'm not," the girl argued. "I recognize that tree from when I was coming in here." She gestured to a gnarled tree on her right. "It's got that funny little root, see?"

Gwaine studied the root in question and smirked. "Yes, I see. It looks like the funny little root on _this_ tree." He pointed to the tree directly behind him. "Oh and _that _tree also has a funny little root! In fact, most trees in this forest have funny little roots."

The girl's mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Ironic, really, since she was sopping wet. For the first time, Gwaine noticed how small she was – the fact emphasized by her sodden dress and hair. She was shivering and looked close to tears. Suddenly he felt awful for being so callous.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice kinder. "Come on, let me take you home."

The girl looked at the hand he had just outstretched with suspicion.

Gwaine noticed her hesitation. "If you stay out here you may very well die of cold."

"All right, all right! When you put it _that_ way. But if I keep holding this basket, my arm will fall off, so here—" she handed the basket off to Gwaine and his hand drooped slightly, not expecting it to be so heavy. But he recovered well. The girl wrapped her arms around herself and they went on their way in awkward silence. Until…

"I still don't know your name."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't we keep it that way?"

"We could, but then I'd have to make up a name for you myself." Gwaine paused, trying to think of one. "I could call you…Antlers because I almost mistook you for a deer…or Cloth-girl – though that sounds a bit cheeky, doesn't it? Oh, how about Guppy?"

"Guppy?"

"Because you looked like a small fish at one point."

"Now you think I look like a _fish_?"

"No, not now. Just at one point."

"Oh, just _at one point_, that's okay then."

"No need to get snippy with me; these are just suggestions. I wouldn't have to give them if you'd just tell me your name."

She said nothing, but a corner of her mouth twitched.

After another pause, Gwaine snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Funny Little Tree Root!"

"_What?_"

"My new name for you: Funny Little Tree Root! Maybe just Root for short…or Funny Root—"

"For the love of– It's Victoria! My name is Victoria."

Gwaine grinned, triumphant. "Aha! Victoria! Vicky, for short?"

"_No_," Tori contested, so strongly that Gwaine blinked at her in surprise. "Sorry. Just…no. No one calls me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd stab them with a million needles, that's why not." Gwaine chuckled nervously, looking at her sideways. She noticed. "I'm kidding! God."

"Right. Of course. Knew that."

They'd reached the village at last. Tori wanted them to say their farewells at the edge of the forest – not wanting her parents to see Gwaine – but he insisted on walking her to her front door, and there was little she could say or do to dissuade him. Besides, he still had the basket.

He gave it back to her when they reached her house. Finally they had some relief from the rain as they both squeezed into the narrow doorway. Having never been this close to a boy before, Tori felt a tad uneasy with the proximity. She was about to say something when Gwaine beat her to it.

"So what should I call you?"

"Sorry?"

"If I can't call you Vicky or Guppy or Funny Little Tree Root, then what should I call you?"

"Oh," she suddenly felt like laughing. "Everyone calls me Tori."

"All right then, Tori," Gwaine grinned, stepping back out into the rain. He took her right hand in his and pressed it to his lips. "I'll see you soon."

Tori felt her face redden; it was her turn to laugh nervously. "Not if I can help it."

With a little wave Gwaine turned and ran back to his home, on the other side of the village. Tori watched him go, smiling slightly. She felt that feeling, deep inside of her, that all people feel when they know they've just met someone special.

Even so, Tori wiped the back of her right hand against her dress. Gwaine was special, yes, but his saliva was not.

Not that she would be admitting to that anytime soon.

That Gwaine was special, that is.

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><p><strong>Phew! All right. You have just witnessed my first ever attempt at a TV show fanfic. How'd I do? I didn't completely butcher Gwaine's character, did I? :|<strong>

**I **_**embrace**_** reviews. ;P**


	2. Chapter 2

**Each chapter takes place one year after the previous chapter, so here Gwaine is thirteen, Tori's twelve.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

"How long do we have to stay crouched like this?" Tori whispered. A moment passed. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Gwaine? What exactly are we waiting for?"

Still nothing.

Tori had come to accept that there were two different sides to her friend. First, there was Normal Gwaine who rarely ever stopped talking, laughing, flirting, joking, or getting into fights; could sometimes be found working for Timothy the blacksmith; had no regard for other people's personal space, and who was always smiling – even if it was only with his eyes. This, however, was Serious Gwaine whom she only ever saw while he was ranting about nobles or in the woods (on the rare occasion that she followed him – like now). Serious Gwaine still didn't care for personal space and still got into fights, but he talked, laughed, flirted, smiled and joked much less, instead preferring to crease the spot between his eyebrows and be cryptic. Maddeningly so.

"For the time to be right," Gwaine replied finally. He was concentrating awfully hard at…nothing. At least, that's what it looked like to Tori, who rolled her eyes. For the millionth time that day, she wished she hadn't let Gwaine talk her into coming to the woods with him.

She'd been in the market with Elen that morning, both of them running errands for their mothers, when someone had come up behind Tori and tugged on a lock of her brown hair. Not needing to turn around to see who it was, she'd simply smacked the hand away and said, "Good morning, Gwaine."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You're the only person I know capable of annoying me without even speaking."

Gwaine chuckled but otherwise ignored the quip. "What're you doing, shopping?"

Tori held up her shopping basket as confirmation.

He pretended to yawn. "Boring."

Next to Tori, Elen tried to hide her giggle, but failed. Gwaine grinned at her. "Morning, Elen. You look positively radiant today. You've done something new to your hair, haven't you?"

"Actually, I have—" Elen began, but one look from Tori stopped her. "Er, I mean I have…to go…to that stall over there. Bye!"

She shuffled over to a stall selling herbs and pretended to engage the seller in deep conversation. Tori turned to face Gwaine, frowning. "_Must_ you do that? She's my cousin."

"No, I don't have to. But it's fun to try."

"Of course it is," said Tori and moved on to the next stall. Gwaine took her basket from her and carried it as he followed. When he had first done this, months and months ago, Tori had tried to take the basket back, but he'd insisted on carrying it for her. He never said it out loud, but Tori suspected he did this because he felt some sort of guilt over what had happened with that basket of cloth from when they first met. Tori's mother had been furious about it, after all. When she'd returned home mud-coated and drenched with water – like a human representation of the fabric – Miranda had been speechless for an achingly long moment before scolding Tori into a coma. She had been forbidden to leave the house for two weeks. "So what brings you to this side of town this morning?" Tori asked now. The morning was usually the time they spent apart – Gwaine was either hunting or working with the blacksmith, and Tori's mother kept her occupied with dresses and shirts and errands.

"Looking for you, of course," said Gwaine, picking up an apple and idly inspecting it.

She gave him a sideways glance, noticed he was wearing his bow and arrows with an empty hunting bag slung round his shoulder. "I'm busy."

"Oh, come on, Tori," he said cajolingly, "you can make time for me."

"Not today, I can't. Mother has four dresses to make by the end of this week and guess who has to help her?"

"I'm sure Timothy could lend a hand."

Tori scoffed. "Funny."

"Honestly though, it won't take long."

"What is it you want, exactly?" Tori asked, squinting at Gwaine with her hands on her hips. His face brightened.

"I want you to come hunting with me."

"No." She turned back to the stall.

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to go whatever the reason."

"Why not?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Gwaine, nothing good ever comes out of me being in the woods!"

"You're overreacting," said Gwaine, somewhat condescendingly, Tori thought.

"I'm not! There was the ruined cloth, the snake, the poison ivy, and let's not forget that boar that was hell-bent on _killing _me! Did I mention the snake?"

"That snake wasn't even poisonous. And you're forgetting that I saved you; shot that boar right in the eye!"

"How could I forget when you keep reminding me?" Tori muttered, paying the fruit seller for six apples and moving on.

Gwaine playfully nudged her. "I remind you because I want you to know that you won't _die_ as long as I'm around. You may get wounded occasionally, but you won't die."

Tori snorted. "How comforting." She did pause, though, and think about going. Gwaine watched her intently.

"Well?" he said, at last.

"I really am busy, Gwaine," Tori told him, this time with a note of apology in her voice.

"Oh," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well then. If you're busy, you're busy. Nothing I can do about that."

Rolling her eyes yet again, Tori took back her shopping basket. "Stop with the wet dog act, will you. What's so special about today, anyway? Why d'you want me to come with you?"

Gwaine shrugged, his face a mask of pure innocence. "Oh, no reason. Just thought you might've been interested in seeing a newborn deer calf, that's all. But like you said, you're too busy, so just forget about it."

Still facing Tori, he took a couple steps in the direction of the forest, relishing the look on her face that most girls got when they heard about a baby animal.

"Newborn, you say?"

"Yep. Still wobbly when it walks and everything. Picked up their trail yesterday – the calf and his mother. It's really a magical sight. Oh well. Too bad you're busy."

And with that, Gwaine turned around, grinning to himself. _Any moment now, _he thought. _Three…two…one…._

"Gwaine, wait!"

He resumed his innocent expression before facing her. "Yes?"

"I suppose I could…spare a few moments."

Then he beamed, and Tori was almost blinded. "You might want to give your basket to Elen," he smirked. "Just in case."

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><p>More than a few moments had passed with Tori growing more and more restless with each. Unlike Gwaine, she hadn't the patience or persistence to wait for something that might never come. The only times she could even tolerate sitting still was when she was sewing or watching her mother sew.<p>

So it was with great relief when Gwaine lightly tapped her shoulder and pointed into the small clearing below them. She followed his gaze and felt the air leave her lungs.

Materializing from a dense clump of bushes was a doe. A real life doe – the first Tori had ever seen. She – the doe, that is – looked so nimble and delicate that Tori immediately felt awkward and clumsy in comparison, even though she wasn't even moving. The doe stood still, head high and poised, as if waiting for something. That's when the calf emerged behind her, on four disproportionately long legs. There was still a slight unsteadiness to the way the calf walked; he couldn't be more than a few days old. Tori didn't dare breathe for fear they would run away.

"What d'you think, Tor?" Gwaine whispered even though it was obvious what she thought from the look on her face. "No one could be too busy for this, eh?"

Tori shook her head slowly, clearly in awe.

"This…" she breathed, "This is magic."

Gwaine grinned, turning back to the mesmerizing view before them. "It is."

Sitting there, together, neither of them was aware that life outside the woods continued as usual. How could it, when something as extraordinary as this doe and her newborn existed? Tori couldn't remember ever being more content than she was right then.

But then – out of nowhere – an arrow appeared, lodged into the side of the doe's head, sending her to the ground with a sickening thud. Tori cried out before she could stop herself. Swiftly, Gwaine covered her mouth with one hand and clamped her shoulder with the other, making her lie down on her stomach.

"Shh!" he hissed, sweeping the forest with his eyes. The eyes of a hunter.

Tori's own eyes widened with a horrifying thought. They darted around, looking for Gwaine's bow and arrows. She felt immensely relieved to find his bow still strapped to his back. That meant he didn't do it. Of course he didn't do it.

But then who—?

Her thought was cut off by a loud, guttural laugh. Gwaine ducked down beside her and removed his hand from her mouth, using it to part the leaves from the bush that acted as their hiding spot. The view that this allowed them made Tori feel sick.

Two men, covered with grime and filth, were standing over the body of the doe. Both were tall and muscular, with faces that could curdle milk and belts that held vicious-looking blades. The only difference Tori could spot between them was that one looked older, with greying hair. It was the older one who worried her. He was the one with the bow and arrows and his face was set in their direction, eyes narrowed. Tori knew, just by the look on his awful face, that he'd heard her call out. Not that the younger one noticed. He was too busy laughing over the dead animal at his feet.

"Shall we track down the calf, Ardon?" he sniggered. "It couldn't have gotten far. Ardon?"

"Did you not hear it?" said Ardon, ignoring the question completely.

"Hear what?"

Ardon paused. Presumably to put a name to the sound. "A girl."

Tori's blood turned to ice. She had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop the scream she was afraid would come. Gwaine's grip on her shoulder tightened until it hurt, but she couldn't say anything. Couldn't even look at him. Every part of her body was frozen, not daring to move, breathe, make a sound.

"A girl? Are you sure? A girl…a _girl_…" He said the word over and over, as if he were just learning it.

"Quiet, Dagyn. She might still be here."

"_A girl_."

Gwaine slowly closed the gap in the bushes, somehow not making a sound, and picked up two small stones. Then, making sure Tori was watching him, he mimicked throwing the stones deeper into the forest and pointed in the opposite direction, towards home. Tori nodded to show she understood.

Gwaine hurled the stones as far away from the two of them as he could. They hit a pile of leaves on the ground, making a rustling sound that distracted Ardon and Dagyn. Their heads snapped in that direction.

"The girl?" Dagyn asked.

_One, _mouthed Gwaine. Tori followed his lead and shifted her weight onto her hands and knees.

"One way to find out," growled Ardon.

_Two. _She tucked one foot beneath her, making sure to keep close to the ground.

"Here, girly girly…" hissed Dagyn. His voice came from a good distance away.

_Three. _Tori pushed off the ground and sprinted faster than the time the boar was chasing her; Gwaine was close behind.

"Ardon – over there! Two of 'em!"

"Go, Tori, _run_!" said Gwaine through gritted teeth. Although he could run much faster than she, he stayed just behind, keeping a firm hand on her back to both keep her from falling and to make her go faster.

"I _am _running!" Tori snapped.

"I meant faster – ah!" The pressure of Gwaine's hand disappeared from Tori's back.

"Gwaine!"

She'd barely stopped running when he was yelling at her again. "Keep going, I'm fine!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm _fine_!"

He didn't seem to be wounded, so Tori kept moving. The trees were starting to thin out; they were close to the village now. Tori knew those men wouldn't follow them past the woods. After all, this was just a hunt to them – something fun to do. But the fun would wear out soon enough when faced with a village full of butchers and blacksmiths and bakers (never underestimate a baker).

Finally, Gwaine and Tori came crashing through the trees, gasping and panting and startling the villagers nearby.

Including Tori's father.

"Victoria?" he said incredulously.

"Father!" said Tori, standing straight but wincing at the pain in her side from running too hard.

"What have you been up to now, Tori?"

Though he was addressing her, his eyes were fixed on Gwaine, who didn't seem to know where to look. Tori thought – with a little bit of pride – that her father must be the only person in the world who could intimidate Gwaine. It wasn't that Jeremiah was particularly menacing in any way, or that he was a butcher…it was more the way he could make someone feel like they were guilty, like they had to confess something, even if they didn't. It was those eyes: piercing, unwavering.

"Well?" he said. "Why were you running?"

"Gwaine challenged me to a race," Tori replied quickly. She couldn't tell him the truth. If she did, her parents would never let her go anywhere with Gwaine ever again. And that thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit.

"A race."

"That's right. But don't worry; I beat him."

Gwaine pretended to look affronted. "I let you win!"

"That's what you think!"

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. He didn't quite believe his daughter. He'd seen the look on her face – and the boy's, too – when they emerged from the trees. They hadn't been racing. More like scurrying. Frightened rabbits being chased by wolves.

He decided to let it go – for now. The important thing now was to get her home before her mother organized a search party. "Come with me, Victoria," he said, turning towards home without waiting. "_Now_."

Tori followed after her father, leaving Gwaine with a hastily whispered goodbye.

* * *

><p>Next day, Tori left her house extra early to check on Gwaine. She had yet to ask him why he'd stopped running yesterday. Even though he had said he was fine, Tori knew from Elen that boys liked to pretend they were much tougher than they were. She wagered he was no exception.<p>

She knocked on the door, knowing his mother would already be at work, hard-working woman that she was. From the other side of the door, Tori heard a groan.

"Open the door, it's me."

Another groan, this time accompanied by slow, dragging footsteps. Finally the door opened, revealing a bleary-eyed Gwaine.

Tori suppressed a smile. "You look terrible."

He yawned. "Yeah, well, it's too early for me to look as good as I normally do."

"Right."

Gwaine stepped aside to let Tori in. Only when he closed the door and turned around did she notice the long red cut on the left side of his waist.

She frowned. "Is that from yesterday?"

"Huh?" he looked down at his bare torso. "Oh. Yeah. That guy Ardon shot an arrow and it just barely scraped me."

"You said you were fine."

"I was. I am."

"I didn't see any blood."

"Exactly. Like I said, it's just a scratch."

Still Tori frowned. He was downplaying it – he could have died yesterday. It was thanks to sheer luck that he didn't. She hadn't realized.

"Really, Tori, I'm fine. In fact, it's my shirt that was murdered."

He picked up the shirt he wore yesterday from the floor where he slept and showed it to her. The arrow had ripped a huge hole in the side but Tori only shrugged. "I could mend it. In fact…"

The idea hit her so suddenly and so hard, it felt as if she'd been plunged into an ice cold lake. Before leaving her house, Tori had brought a small bag with her. In it was the rope that her mother used to measure people for their clothes. She'd brought it with her as a sort of alibi, in the event her parents asked her why she went out so early. Tori took the rope out now.

"What's that for?" asked Gwaine. Then a realization seemed to dawn upon him. "Ah. Today's the day you finally strangle me to death, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, and then grinned. "I'll save that for next week."

He made a face at her. "Seriously though, what's it for?"

"I'm going to measure you."

"Er, why?"

"That ripped shirt, it's the only one that fits you now, isn't it? You outgrew all the others."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm fat?"

"For God's sake, Gwaine."

"Okay, sorry, sorry. Yes, I outgrew the others. So?"

"So you can't wear the same shirt day after day. That's why I'm going to make some new ones for you!"

He only stared at her. "I wouldn't be able to pay you."

"I don't need you to pay me. Not with money, anyway."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows, looking suddenly amused. "What's going through that head of yours, Vicky?"

Tori was so excited about her idea she let the name (and the innuendo) slide. "In return for the clothes…in return for the clothes, you're going to teach me how to fight. With a sword."

Gwaine blinked once before proceeding to burst into hysterics. Tori expected this. He rarely took anything seriously.

"Are you done?" she sighed after a while.

"Why…why would you want to learn that?" asked Gwaine, still chuckling.

Tori didn't smile when she replied. "Because of yesterday."

Gwaine sobered and straightened up. "What?"

"Yesterday made me realize how useless I am when it comes to defending myself. Maybe if I could do that better – actually, if I could do that at all – we mightn't have had to run and you wouldn't have gotten hurt." She said this all in one breath, not knowing it was bursting to get out until just now.

"Tori, I –"

"Don't tell me you can't do it because I know Timothy taught you how ages ago; you're like a son to him."

"Yeah, but –"

"What?"

"Did you forget what I said? Nothing will happen to you while I'm around."

Tori took a measured breath before answering. "Gwaine, I know you mean well when you say that, but I don't think you realize how patronizing it is."

"How is it patronizing?"

"What makes you think I want to have to depend on you all the time? Whenever we go to the woods something always happens and you're the one who has to rescue me, and I'm grateful for it, I am, but I also think it wouldn't be so bad...if I could do my own rescuing." She paused. "D'you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Moments passed with neither of them saying a word. Gwaine didn't quite know why he didn't want Tori learning how to use a sword. He supposed he actually liked saving her…if only it was to brag about it later. _Not a good enough reason_, he told himself. He rolled his eyes then, and held out his arms to be measured.

He thought Tori's face might fall off, she was smiling so wide.


	3. Chapter 3

**I have to give a special shout out to **_**LikeTheStars**_** for reviewing not one, not two, not three, but **_**four **_**times last chapter. I guess faulty internet has its advantages!**

**Note: This chapter contains the invention of the cupcake, hah.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

"H-hi, Elen."

"Oh, hello, Tobias!"

"I was m-making this at the bakery and...well, I thought you might like some. But it's okay if you don't! I mean, I'm not going to make you take it if you don't want to..."

Elen smiled, but this seemed to make Tobias even more flustered. "What is it?" she asked, examining the contents of the basket he held out.

"Well, uh, it's a cake...but smaller. F-for one person."

"Oh, they look adorable – like they were made in little cups!"

"Y-yes, exactly! I call them cupcakes."

"Cupcakes," Elen repeated. "That's an amazing idea, Tobias."

The poor boy blushed such a deep scarlet he resembled one of the little cakes' frosting. "You really think so?"

"I really do!"

"W-wow, thanks, Elen. I hope you like them," he said as he gave her the basket. He scurried away before she could thank him. Elen shook her head, amazed that someone two years older than her could still be so shy around girls. When she closed the door and turned around, she found her cousin grinning up at her from a nearby chair.

"What?" Elen said, a little defensively.

Tori went back to working on the dress in her lap but continued to smirk. "You know what."

"No, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Really, Elen, open your eyes! He likes you."

"What? No he doesn't! He's like that with all the girls!"

Tori raised her eyebrows. "So he gives all the girls _cupcakes_, does he?"

Elen sputtered, her ears turning pink. Finally, she gave up on wit and settled for "Shut up, will you?"

Tori chuckled softly to herself as Elen placed the basket of cupcakes on a table and tried one. They were both at Elen's house; Tori had slept over the night before because her mother and Aunt Margaret had gone on a sort of seamstress's pilgrimage to a town called Oldaern where the most beautiful fabric was made.

It felt good to spend time with Elen again. Ever since they were small, they were like sisters to each other – sharing everything; but once they'd reached adolescence, Tori felt like they had grown apart. Tori had Gwaine, and Elen, with her beautiful golden hair and kind blue eyes, had almost every other boy in the village, vying for her attention.

"He's so shy, though," Elen murmured, and it took Tori a moment to realize who she was talking about.

"Yeah, he is. Maybe he should spend some time with Gwaine," Tori joked.

"Maybe. _Speaking_ of Gwaine," Elen said mischievously, "how are things between you two?"

Tori rolled her eyes. "I know you like to think these things, Elen, but there isn't a love story everywhere you look, all right? We're just friends. He's too annoying to be anything else, anyway."

Elen shook her head disdainfully and muttered something under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"I said, of course you two are just friends, the way _you_ dress!"

"What? What's wrong with the way I dress?" Tori couldn't help but be offended.

"Well, it's just so...boring! So brown and beige. You're a seamstress, for God's sake; take a little pride in your clothes!" Elen opened the closet she shared with her mother and pulled out a deep green dress with delicate flowers embroidered on the neckline and hem. "Here. I want you to change into this right now."

Tori stared blankly at her cousin, but she didn't appear to be finished.

"And your _hair_," Elen went on. "You're not ten-years-old anymore, Tor, there's no acceptable reason to wear it in two braids." While she talked, she dragged Tori off of the chair and undid the braids, unperturbed by Tori's protests and attempts to swat her hands away.

Finally, Elen stepped back to admire her work. "There we go. Though...it wouldn't hurt to smile a bit."

Tori half-heartedly lifted the corners of her mouth. She didn't think that being told her clothes were boring and her hair childish left her with too much to smile about, but it was impossible to stay mad at Elen. Besides, when she was given a mirror to look at, Tori had to admit that whatever Elen had done had worked. With her brown hair loose, she looked more her age.

Elen beamed. "No need to thank me."

* * *

><p>Gwaine slammed the back of his opponent's hand onto the hard surface of the wooden barrel, eliciting a raucous roar from the small crowd that had gathered around the pair. The first few times he'd done this, it had been accompanied by a triumphant laugh or a self-satisfied smirk. Now, however, the exhilaration of winning was wearing off. It was too easy. But he wasn't doing it for the challenge. He held out his palm. "I'll have the money now, thanks."<p>

The older boy Gwaine had been arm-wrestling scowled but handed over a gold coin and left, taking a bruised hand and an even more badly bruised ego with him. Gwaine examined the coin for a moment before pushing it down his right boot with the others he had accumulated that day. He'd been doing this all morning: waiting outside the local tavern and challenging random patrons to arm-wrestle. Most of them foolishly underestimated him and – thinking they couldn't lose to a fourteen year old boy – accepted.

"So," said Gwaine, turning to face those congregated around him. "Who's next?"

"I think I'd like to have a go."

Inwardly, Gwaine groaned. The voice came from behind but he'd be able to recognize that pompous tone anywhere. He turned. "Sure about that, Henry? You do realize you'll have to pay me when I win, don't you?"

"_If _you win," Henry sneered, pushing aside two small boys to get through. Gwaine was filled with the intense dislike that was so familiar to him when it came to the fair-haired boy. Henry was rude, unkind, arrogant beyond belief, and always had two bull-like 'friends' to hide behind should he need them. But no matter how different they were from each other, Gwaine and Henry were always grouped together; always had been from birth.

Henry was the son of a knight too.

Though _his_ father was still alive, still serving the king. And this was the reason Henry strutted around the town like a peacock, like he owned it, reminding all who challenged him who his father was, telling them he could have the king himself execute them just for harassing the son of his most valuable knight.

The claim was ridiculous, of course, but just ridiculous enough that people didn't doubt it completely.

Henry was all the reasons Gwaine hated nobles, all rolled into one: the lack of humility, the unbearable assumption that he was superior to everyone, not using his title (or his father's title, more like) to help people.

"Of course. _If _I win," said Gwaine, contempt colouring his every word, every movement as he placed his elbow on the barrel. "Which I will."

Henry scoffed, moved forward and slammed his elbow onto the barrel as well, ensuring a thud that would scare the little ones nearby.

They gripped hands, hard, wanting to see who would squirm away from the pressure first. Someone in the crowd counted down...

And it was over almost as soon as it began, with the back of Henry's hand flat against the wooden surface. Gwaine laughed, the rush of winning returned mingled with the pure satisfaction of seeing the incredulously livid expression on the other boy's face.

"Again!" Henry barked. Gwaine decided to humour him...

The back of Henry's hand was back on the barrel.

"Again!"

Same result.

"Pay up," Gwaine said, smirking.

"No, I demand another rematch."

"You can _demand_ all the rematches you want, but it still won't change the outcome," Gwaine said, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

Too hot-headed for his own good, Henry was now almost shaking. "You're cheating somehow, then. I just know it!"

"It's arm-wrestling, Henry. How does one cheat at that?"

"Then how the hell do you keep winning?" Henry said slowly, through gritted teeth.

"I'm stronger than you," Gwaine said levelly, knowing full well that this could only end badly. "Obviously," he added, just for fun.

Henry's fingers twitched, but he seemed to control himself. Then, to Gwaine bemusement, he smiled. "Isn't that a wonder, though?"

"What?"

"Isn't it a wonder how you're so strong?" Henry's tone of voice put an image in Gwaine's head of a child who smiled before pouring salt on a snail.

"What are you getting at?"

"It's not as if you inherited that strength, you know. My father's told me stories about your father – about how weak he was."

"Don't you dare talk about my father," Gwaine almost snarled.

Henry laughed, giddy over this new triumph. "Know what I think? I bet your father didn't even die in battle. I bet he caught cold and died all warm and comfortable in a bed in the infirmary!"

It was like Gwaine physically couldn't stop his arm from swinging. It happened instantaneously, hitting Henry in the eye and sending him toppling backwards. When the other boy got back up, he only smiled, like he'd been waiting for Gwaine to throw the first punch. And Gwaine knew why: it allowed what would happen next to be excused as self-defence.

* * *

><p>Elen had been trying to persuade Tori to taste a cupcake but then stopped talking mid-sentence and frowned. "Do you hear that?" she asked. Tori stopped what she was doing, too, and listened. Quite close by she could hear people shouting, chanting almost. Elen went over to the window and peered outside. She rolled her eyes. "It's Gwaine."<p>

Tori almost laughed. "Should've known. Who's he up against this time?" she asked as she resumed her careful stitching.

"Wait, I can't see…Oh. Oh, not again."

"What?"

"_Henry_."

Tori swore – a habit she'd picked up from Gwaine – and threw aside her work, sprinting outside toward the crowd, closely followed by her cousin. She didn't usually get involved when Gwaine got into one of his fights (if she did, he'd spend the rest of the day sulking), but when it came to Henry, Tori just couldn't stand by and watch. For someone with a nobleman for a father, Henry didn't seem to even understand the concept of nobility or honour. The fight was always unfair – Gwaine against Henry and his two ever-present followers. And if they ever managed to get Gwaine on the ground, they wouldn't give him the chance to recover, like proper knights would.

There was a sizable crowd gathered around the two boys, egging them on. Tori shoved her way through just in time to see Henry's burly mates – she couldn't, for the life of her, recall their names – pull Gwaine off their leader and throw him to the ground. One of them pulled something out of his belt – something that momentarily blinded Tori as it caught the sun's glare.

"Gwaine!" she screamed when she realized what it was, but the crowd drowned out her voice. Fortunately, Gwaine's instincts were sharp enough that he'd already rolled to the side when he saw the flash of light, so that the dagger only grazed his shoulder. Still, his blood was spilled and that filled Tori with a rage she'd never felt before. With her own blood pounding in her ears, Tori ran up to the one who'd cut Gwaine and punched him so hard in the jaw she wasn't sure on whom she'd inflicted more pain – her target, or herself.

She had to grit her teeth hard to keep from crying out. How did Gwaine make punching look so easy? It bloody _hurt_!

"What the hell, Tori?" said Gwaine, jumping to his feet.

"Walk away, Gwaine," Tori muttered so only he would hear. "For once in your life, just _walk away_."

"What's the matter, Gwaine?" Henry shouted, grinning despite the black eye and blood pouring from his nose. "Are you going to run? Run back to your little _slut_?"

Gwaine moved so fast he was almost a blur. He charged at Henry like a bull that'd been poked and prodded too many times. When Gwaine's fist connected with Henry's face, one could actually hear the impact – and the sickening crunch of broken cartilage. Henry hit the ground. He didn't get back up.

The crowd went silent. No one moved. No one breathed.

Finally, alarmed by the quiet, the adults began streaming from their houses just as the children began blending into the background, not wanting to be caught on the scene. Just when Henry began to stir, Tori and Elen hastily ushered Gwaine away to clean him up, treat his wounds and – in Tori's case – yell at him. Once they reached Elen's house though, the angry words that'd been banging around in her head during the fight eluded her. All she could see now were his bruises, his unusually pale skin, his blood soaked all the way through the shirt she'd made him for his birthday. Elen made him sit on the bed and take off his shirt. The knife wound looked worse exposed.

Tori soaked a rag in water, wrung it out and pressed it against Gwaine's cut shoulder, unsmiling.

"You shouldn't have interfered," Gwaine muttered, not looking at her. Tori thought that if she opened her mouth she would start screaming at him and never stop, so she kept quiet. "Now Henry's going to make your life miserable."

"He won't," Elen piped up.

"What, because he's such a _gentleman_?" Gwaine said scathingly.

"No," said Elen, bristling at his tone, "because he'd be too scared. No one bothers the butcher's daughter. Well, except you."

Gwaine glowered at her. "Hilarious."

"Look," said Tori, meeting his eyes for the first time since the fight, "it's not like we expect you to thank us or anything, but there's no need to be an arsehole."

"We did sort of stop you from being carved like a turkey," Elen agreed.

"I didn't want – or need – your help!"

"So I suppose getting your shoulder sliced was part of the plan?" Tori said sardonically.

"I was fine! I was doing all ri–"

"The last time you fought Henry you ended up with a broken rib. The time before that he sprained your ankle. And now you have a cut shoulder so don't even tell me you were _doing all right_," Tori hissed, pressing the cloth into his wound perhaps harder than necessary. Gwaine winced, but – though he was fuming – said nothing.

"_And_," Tori went on, "the fight was ending, and I _told_ you to walk away, but did you? No! All for what, so people wouldn't think you were 'running away'?"

Elen rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys and their egos."

Gwaine stood up, so suddenly that Tori had to take a few steps back. "I didn't go back because of that!"

"Then why?" Tori demanded, arms crossed.

"Forget it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Gwaine."

"I said _forget it_," Gwaine growled at her. He grabbed his shirt and stormed from the house, slamming the door so hard Tori flinched. She stared after him for a few moments, then threw the blood-stained cloth into a bucket, masking her hurt with anger.

Uncomfortable with the tension in the room, Elen grabbed the basket Tobias had brought earlier and offered it to her cousin meekly. "Cupcake?"

* * *

><p>When Tori returned home later that day, with her punching hand bandaged, she found her father waiting for her with arms crossed, a stern expression, and an overall air of disapproval about him. A ball of dread formed in her stomach; she already knew what he was going to say.<p>

"Sit down, Victoria."

She reluctantly sank down on her parents' bed thinking he would sit as well, but he didn't. Silence dragged on until Tori almost stood back up just out of anxiety.

"I heard about what happened today," Jeremiah said finally, eyeing Tori's bandaged hand. "Words cannot describe how _very _disappointed in you I am. I did not raise my only daughter – my only child – to behave like this."

Tori stared down at her hands. Although she didn't regret hitting the boy with the dagger, she felt ashamed to have let down her father.

"Now, I've been very lenient these past few years, letting things slide when you've gotten into trouble with that Gwaine boy. I thought it was just a phase and that you would outgrow it. But now you're getting into fights? Punching people? Victoria, this isn't you. "

_I only punched one person, _thought Tori, but out loud she said, "I'm sorry, Father. I promise it won't happen again."

"I know it won't," said Jeremiah, with an awfully conclusive tone. "From this moment forth, you are not to see or be seen with the boy."

"_What?" _Tori stood up, incredulous. "But, Father, I–"

"Whether we like it or not, Henry's family is an influential one. We cannot afford – we _literally_ cannot afford – to have them as enemies. Henry's mother and her friends get their dresses from your mother. Their family eats the meat I provide. One word from them and no one would buy anything from us ever again. Do you understand, Victoria?" he said this slowly, drilling every word into his daughter's head. It pained him to see the wounded look on her face but this had to be done. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of family, always. This was something Jeremiah had always taught his daughter. "Tori," he said, leaning down to her height, "tell me you understand."

At that moment, Tori hated her father for demanding this of her, hated Gwaine for always getting in the middle of trouble, hated herself for always getting involved. She almost asked herself why she couldn't leave him alone, but the answer was simple: he made her life better. Before Gwaine, she never got into trouble, never disobeyed an order, never dared leave her comfort zone. She had a routine. Running errands was the most adventurous part of her day. In short: she was boring as hell.

But with Gwaine in her life, every day was a mystery – in the best possible way. He taught her to loosen up, smile more, fight, everything.

She was about to tell her father all this when she looked into his eyes and saw that, for once, they weren't piercing or judgmental – they were pleading. He wasn't demanding, he was asking. He looked sad; an emotion Tori had never before seen on his face. She wanted – she _needed_ to make it go way. And the only way she could do that...

"Okay," she almost whispered. "I understand."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It was a cold, windy day the day Jeremiah's body was burned – just another poor victim of the harsh winter they'd barely endured. The amount of crops yielded from the last harvest was miniscule; most of the town's livestock had died. Any food Jeremiah was able to scrounge up went to his wife and daughter. He made sure his family didn't starve; it would be the last thing he ever did.

Gwaine's mother was a different story. A few weeks before Jeremiah's death, she'd fallen ill from the cold and her son was the one who had to take care of her. Gwaine did everything he could think of to make her well again. He moved her to Timothy's house – a blacksmith's home was almost certain to be the warmest place in any village; he spent hours in the woods – sometimes in vain – looking for anything that moved; he even prayed. But he might as well not have done anything, for his mother's body was too weak, too worn down from years and years of hard labour to recover from a simple cold. Life fled from her body during the night. Gwaine had been so consumed with grief and anger he could barely think straight. He didn't want to think at all. One night, he discovered alcohol. Discovered the comforting numbness it provided him. For two long weeks, he was rarely seen sober. No one could talk him out of it – but Tori decided she would give it one last try. Telling her father she was going to see Elen – as she been telling him for the past year whenever she was really meeting up with Gwaine – she went to check up on her friend. He was alone in the house he used to share with his mother. Technically, it now belonged to the king, Carleon, which was why he'd ruined…everything. Tori walked in to see the inside of the house looking like it'd suffered a hurricane, with Gwaine sat on the floor against the wall, flask of wine in hand. When he saw her, he gave her a bitter smile.

"What did you _do_?" she'd whispered, appalled at how thoroughly he'd destroyed everything. Cupboard doors were ripped off their hinges, chairs were smashed, pieces of wood were scattered all across the floor. The bed was upturned, the mattress ripped open, spilling its filling everywhere.

"It's a present," he slurred, "for the king!"

"Gwaine –"

"D'you think he'll like it, Tori? D'you think he'll like it when he comes to steal my mother's house and sees this?"

Tori couldn't think of anything to say. All she saw was Gwaine's face: sweaty and flushed from the alcohol, with dark crescents under his eyes. When was the last time he'd had a full night's sleep?

"Do you think he even knows this is her house? Does he remember who she is?" Gwaine went on as he stumbled to his feet, voice rising. "I don't think he remembers. Why should he? Why should he remember the wife of one of his knights? I mean, my father only _died _for him right? Why should _His Majesty_ care? Why should he care that my mother died because she was too weak because she worked herself to the bone because _he refused to help her when she asked for it_?"

Gwaine's face was now inches away from Tori's. Nauseated by the stench of wine on his breath, Tori turned her head away. He scowled at her.

"What, do I disgust you? Do you think I'm wrong?"

"No," Tori mumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"_No_, I don't think you're wrong," Tori snapped, glowering at him, "I think what you've done is wrong." She motioned to the disheveled room. "And _you_ don't disgust me, the way you're behaving disgusts me."

"The way I'm behaving?" Gwaine scoffed, and took a swig from his flask. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, _Vicky_, but this is me."

Before he could raise the flask to his lips once more, Tori snatched it out of his hand. "No, this – _this_ –" she gestured to the wine "is not you." She threw the flagon aside. "This is some warped version of you that I don't know!"

Gwaine rolled his eyes, looking so utterly indifferent to everything – including her – that Tori couldn't help the stinging she felt in her eyes. "Why are you acting like this, Gwaine?"

"Why do you think?"

"I mean why are you trying to shut out everyone who still cares about you? Look, I understand what you must be going through–"

"Oh, Victoria, don't," Gwaine laughed condescendingly. "You don't have a right to say that to me. Not when you have both parents alive to tuck you in at night."

Again, Tori was at a loss for words. She felt like he'd slapped her. He was right, of course; how could she possibly know how he was feeling? She had both parents and Gwaine had neither. Still, she hated how he'd said it, hated how he used her full name, hated how he treated her like she was so much younger than him when their age difference was a mere year. But she didn't back down because she knew that, like a wild animal, whenever he fought and lashed out, that was when he was in the most pain. Tori took a deep breath to compose herself before speaking. And when she did speak, it was with the calm voice of one trying to soothe a trapped animal. "You're right, I don't. I'm sorry I even said that. But you can still talk to me, Gwaine. I want to help."

Suddenly, Gwaine snapped. "For God's sake, I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help! Why is everyone trying to fix me? Has it ever crossed your mind that all I need is to be left alone?"

And to emphasise his point he stormed out of the dark house, slamming the door so hard that dust flew in all directions. When Tori's mother later asked why it looked like she'd been crying, she could say without lying that there was something in her eyes.

But that was two weeks ago. And in the time that'd passed, Tori and Gwaine hadn't spoken to each other at all; barely even looked at the other though both felt heavy with guilt and unease about the words exchanged that day. Gwaine knew he shouldn't have snapped at her like that; he wanted to hide behind the excuse that it was the wine talking, but that wasn't true. He had meant everything he said, it just shouldn't have come out that way.

And now here he was, standing around the pyre that was turning Tori's father into ashes. Almost the entire village showed up to pay their respects and – though no one dared say this aloud – receive free heating from the fire. Jeremiah was not the only person they were mourning that day, the pyre held at least four other bodies – most of them children who were too weak to bear the low temperatures, but he seemed like the greatest loss to Gwaine. Although the man had intimidated him, Gwaine had respected him. He was the father of his best friend; a strong presence in the small village. Gwaine remembered the times he'd felt Jeremiah's eyes on his back as he and Tori walked around the market or as he practiced his sword fighting with Timothy while Tori playfully heckled him. When he found out that Jeremiah had forbidden his daughter from seeing him, he'd simply laughed it off, at first. When Tori didn't laugh with him, he asked, "You're not serious?" though the expression on her face was enough to convince him she was.

They managed to be without each other's company for exactly three days. On the fourth day, Tori had shown up at Gwaine's door with one of Timothy's swords in hand.

"My sword fighting skills are getting rusty," she'd claimed.

Gwaine smirked; he knew better. "Yeah, I've missed you too."

* * *

><p>Gwaine was pulled back to the present when the mother of one of the dead children crumbled to her knees and let loose a heart-wrenching sob. Tori's mother, Miranda, withdrew her death grip on her daughter's hand to kneel and wrap her arms around the broken woman. Tori now stood alone with fisted hands, staring into the flames, fighting hard not to break down like the poor mother. She lifted her gaze, meeting Gwaine's, but only for a second.<p>

"Hey." Elen was suddenly at his side, her blonde hair tucked into her cloak so that it would be undisturbed by the wind.

"Hi, Elen. It's been ages."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And whose fault is that?"

"The baker who's been courting you?" Gwaine couldn't help but say. Every time he'd seen Elen the past few weeks, if she wasn't with her cousin she was with Tobias.

"Oh, hush, he isn't courting me," she said, blushing slightly, then seemed to focus. "I need to talk to you about Tori."

Gwaine frowned, unconsciously looking up to find her, only to discover that the crowd had thinned out and Tori was nowhere to be seen. "What about her?"

"When was the last time you two spoke?"

"I don't know," Gwaine shrugged nonchalantly, but inside he felt the familiar ache of guilt. "A while."

"Well obviously, now's the time to start again."

"Don't you think I know that?" Gwaine said testily.

"Then go do it, you arse!"

"I was already going to! God. You're worse than your cousin sometimes, you know that?"

"I do, and I'm proud of it." Elen gave him a small smile. "_Go_."

Gwaine didn't have to do too much work to guess where Tori had vanished. He set off in the direction of the beach – a place he hadn't been to since his mother died. Like Tori, his mother, Michelle, didn't particularly like the forest, much preferring the seaside. Gwaine remembered the day he learned to swim. He was seven; and it was when his mother's employers had decided to give her a day off – a rare, precious occurrence. She'd packed bread, a few pieces of salted beef, cheese and three apples – a feast by their standards – into a basket and they headed to the beach, hand in hand. It was Gwaine's first time facing a large body of water, yet apparently he'd charged straight into the surf, exhilarated by the waves and the tiny hermit crabs he found. It barely took any teaching on Michelle's part. They were at the beach for hours though Gwaine couldn't recall exactly what they did. All he knew for sure was that for once, he and his mother ate until they were completely full and laughed until their stomachs ached.

Finally, he heard the gentle sound of waves hitting the sand. The beach stretched for miles on either side with a man-made boundary of giant boulders on each. Gwaine went to the east side of the beach, where there was a small cave-like niche hidden away amongst the rocks. Tori was there, as he'd hoped. Her knees were drawn close to her chest, her palms covered her eyes, and she wore her cloak backwards so that it covered her entirely. Years of hunting had given Gwaine a silent tread, but when he approached Tori he purposely kicked around some sand so as not to sneak up on her. She jumped when she realized she wasn't alone and hastily wiped at her face.

"Hi," said Gwaine awkwardly.

"Hi."

"D'you mind if I sit with you?"

Tori shook her head and moved to make space for him. There was a pause in which neither of them knew what to say or do now.

At last, Gwaine spoke. "I'm so sorry, Tori. For your father…for everything."

"You don't have to–"

"Yes I do. I was a complete arse to you before, and when I said that you had both parents to– I didn't mean– This was the_ last_ thing I'd ever want to happen–"

"Hey," Tori cut him off, laying a hand on his knee. "I know, all right? I know. I don't blame you, Gwaine. Of course I don't."

"I shouldn't have said those things to you."

"I shouldn't have given up on you when you did."

"Well…can't argue with that, can we?" said Gwaine in an attempt to lighten the mood. Tori couldn't help but laugh a little, and just like that, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them.

* * *

><p>They stayed on the beach for a few more hours. They held a memorial for the deceased right there; taking turns to share stories and memories of Michelle and Jeremiah and writing their names in the sand. Gwaine saw Tori cry for the first time and – having never dealt with a weeping girl before – was unsure of how to act. In the end he simply put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Neither of them said a word.<p>

"The thing I hate most," said Tori after a stretch of silence, "is that I spent the last year of his life lying to him." Gwaine didn't need to ask to know who she was talking about. "And I made Elen lie to him too. She always covered for me when he asked where I was and I was with you."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret not telling him the truth. Though deep down, I think he knew. He knew I was lying to him and he didn't say a word."

"I don't know what to say, Tori."

Tori's eyes were beginning to sting again. _Damn_, she thought, wiping them with her sleeve. "That's okay. I don't really know what I want to hear."

They decided it was time to go back to town. It was starting to get dark and neither of them could feel their fingers anymore thanks to the bitter weather. Gwaine walked Tori home, chattering aimlessly to keep her distracted from the sight of the smoking pyre. They said farewell with a promise to meet the next day.

When Tori walked into her house, she was surprised to be greeted with the warm glow of half a dozen lit candles. Her mother and Aunt Margaret, who were sisters, were huddled together on the bed, as was Elen. When Miranda saw her daughter, she opened up her arms and Tori dove into them without a second thought, like she was a child again. Although barely a word was spoken throughout the night, Tori had never felt closer to her family than right then.

Seconds before drifting off to sleep, she found herself thinking of Gwaine, and wishing he didn't have to be alone tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Whoever the anon 'A Person' is: Y U NO leave signed review? Let me shower you with love!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Gwaine was woken up by the tinny sound of metal on metal, as he had been for the past year – ever since Timothy had unofficially adopted him. He groaned irritably, covering his head with his pillow.

"Rise and shine, Gwaine!" Timothy yelled from outside, in his gruff voice. "I know you're awake in there. Come help me!"

Gwaine groaned again, but managed to drag himself out of bed. It was still dark outside yet most of the town had already begun their day's work. Today more than usual as it was a special day: King Carleon's eldest daughter was getting married, and all the villages in his kingdom were expected to celebrate. People had been hard at work for the whole week, cleaning their houses, sweeping the streets, making everything look presentable for the festivities. Tori, Miranda, and the two other seamstresses in the village were kept extremely busy by the sudden demand for new dresses, and blacksmiths were ordered to make ceremonial swords. Timothy was working on his final one – or so Gwaine thought. He paid little attention to the row of twenty ceremonial swords leaning against the house, ready to be delivered to the king. He didn't realise that Timothy was working on his twenty-first sword.

Across the road, the windows of the bakery were opened by Tobias who gave a friendly nod to Gwaine before retreating inside to finish off his order of bread and cakes.

"What d'you need?" Gwaine, still half-asleep, asked the middle-aged blacksmith.

Timothy smiled crookedly. "Nah, don't need nothin'. Just wanted to get your lazy arse out of bed."

Gwaine was not amused.

* * *

><p>"Tori, I've decided."<p>

Victoria looked up briefly from the worktable she was sharing with her mother. "Hm?"

"I've decided," said Elen, fidgeting with a length of ribbon, "that if Tobias doesn't ask me by the end of today, then I'll go with someone else."

"Ask you what?" Miranda inquired of her niece.

"To the dance," Elen answered. "In honour of the royal wedding."

"Well, why don't _you_ ask him?"

"Thank you!" Tori exclaimed. "That's exactly what I've been trying to tell her."

Elen stared at the both of them as if they were insane. "It's the boy's job to ask the girl, everyone knows that."

"Yes, but if the boy suffers from a crippling shyness, then the girl has to make adjustments," replied Tori. She resisted the urge to shake some sense into her cousin, instead going back to the almost-finished dress on the table. Elen sighed, and dropped the ribbon onto the bed. Just then there was a knock on the door and, seeing as how Tori and Miranda were busy finishing up their orders, Elen went to answer it. She was surprised to find Timothy on the other side.

"Tim, hi! Come in."

"Thank you, Elen." The blacksmith stepped inside and greeted Tori and Miranda with a slight nod. Tori noticed he had something in his hands; something wrapped within a length of cloth.

"Is that a sword?" she asked.

Timothy grinned. "It is. Finished it this mornin' and now I need a place to hide it for a couple days."

"Hide it?" Elen repeated. "Why do you need to hide it?"

"It's for Gwaine."

Tori eagerly slid out of her seat. "Can I see it?"

"Sure," Timothy chuckled, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a handsome steel blade that was a little more than half Tori's height.

"It's _beautiful_," she breathed, taking the hilt in her hands and giving it a test swing. It was slightly heavier than the swords she was used to when she sparred with Gwaine.

"What's the occasion?" asked Elen, who – for someone who didn't usually care for swords – was surprisingly awed.

"Well, he's sixteen now," Timothy began, "and under normal circumstances…if his father hadn't died and he'd grown up a typical nobleman's son, he'd have received his first real sword by now."

"And you couldn't stand the thought that Henry's already got his, right?" Tori joked.

Timothy's smile faded. "Cowards shouldn't wield swords."

"Well," said Tori, breaking the sudden silence in the room, "good thing Gwaine's no coward, then." She took the cloth from Tim and wrapped it around the blade before storing it in a cupboard.

"Much appreciated, girls. Miranda," he nodded at Tori's mother before he left.

"Henry's already started squiring, hasn't he? Training under a real knight?" Elen asked Miranda when she closed the door.

"I would think so, yes."

"What about Gwaine?"

"He'd rather die than be a knight," Tori cut in. She was back at the worktable, making final adjustments to her otherwise finished dress.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know he hates nobles, blah, blah, blah."

Tori laughed. "Don't ever let him hear you say it like _that_."

"Or what?" Elen scoffed jokingly. "You make it sound like I have a reason to be afraid of him."

"Afraid of who?"

Tori, Elen and Miranda all jumped, startled when Gwaine appeared in the open window, casually leaning his elbows on the ledge as if he'd been there the whole time. He grinned broadly at their surprised (and annoyed) faces. "Surprise!"

"Don't you have somewhere to be, something to do?" Tori said, staring at him petulantly.

"Surprisingly, no. Everyone seems to be too busy for little old me."

Tori smirked. "Imagine that."

"If you're not busy, Gwaine," Miranda cut in quickly before he and her daughter could start teasing one another, "I have a job for you. Have you noticed anything wrong with the street today?"

Gwaine leaned back from the window a bit to look around. "Looks bare. Weren't there flowers everywhere yesterday?"

"There were," Elen said, "but some genius forgot to close the goat pen properly last night so the goats _ate_ all the flowers."

"Hah! I see. Well, I know a meadow," Gwaine offered. "There are all the flowers you could ever want."

Tori and Elen exchanged glances with each other and giggled in amused disbelief. Gwaine gave them an odd look. "What?"

"It's just…you are the only boy we know who can say that without compromising his masculinity," Elen sniggered.

"I'll take that as a compliment, I think."

Tori grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

After getting specific instructions from Miranda about which types of flowers and colours were needed, Gwaine went to Timothy's home – which was now his home too, though he rarely called it so – to get a couple of sacks for the flowers and to borrow the blacksmith's horse; a weary-looking but sweet mare named Cloud. He was in the midst of preparing her for the ride when he saw Tori, on her way back from delivering the dress she'd just completed.

"Did the old bat like your dress?" he asked her.

"How many times have I told you not to call her that?" Tori chastised, ignoring his question. He knew that if her dress hadn't been liked, it'd still be in her hands. "She's not that bad."

Gwaine snorted. "She's the one who brought Henry into the world; of course she's that bad."

Tori peered at him reproachfully. She could understand Gwaine's rivalry with Henry, but she didn't see why he had to put down Henry's _mother_. "You shouldn't stoop down to his level, Gwaine."

"What d'you mean?"

Tori hesitated a moment, aware that this was potentially dangerous territory, but kept on. "That time he said what he did about– about your father."

Gwaine tensed, as he always did when anyone mentioned his father. "So you're telling me to be the better man, is that it?"

"That's exactly it. And anyway," Tori added, "it's not as if she's all that pleased about the way her son behaves."

"Did she actually say that to you?" Gwaine asked, eyebrows raised.

"She says a lot of things to me." Tori shrugged. "In confidence."

"Like what?"

"Don't you know what 'in confidence' means?"

"Yeah. It means I'm confident you'll tell me."

Tori laughed. "You're an idiot. Now go pick your flowers."

"Do you want to come with?"

"I can't. I've still got things to do before the dance."

"That reminds me," Gwaine said as he mounted Cloud, "who's taking you?"

Not liking the way he'd phrased the question, Tori crossed her arms. "I don't need to be _taken _by anyone. I'm perfectly capable of going by myself, thank you very much."

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well what I meant."

Tori simply stared at him, waiting.

"Fine! _Who are you going with_?"

She immediately relaxed, and smiled sweetly just to annoy him further. "Jonathan and Christopher both asked. I'm leaning more towards Christopher. And you?"

Gwaine shrugged. "No one seems interested."

"You're joking, aren't you? There's a crowd of girls constantly panting after you!"

"Really? Well they're not like that when I talk to them."

"Oh, it's a girl thing," Tori waved her hand dismissively. "It's to make you like them more."

"How is acting like they're too busy for me supposed to make me like them more?" Gwaine asked, genuinely baffled.

"Well it's either that or cling on to you and beg you to love them," Tori chuckled.

"You mean like you do?"

"What– _What_?"

Gwaine winked at her before urging Cloud to tear off into the woods, laughing wickedly, leaving Tori standing there – blushing madly – halfway between shouting obscenities at him and laughing.

* * *

><p>The next evening – the evening of the dance – Tori was being fussed over by her mother when there was a knock on the door.<p>

"Mother, you can leave my hair alone now," she said, trying to shuffle out of Miranda's reach. When Miranda continued to twirl her daughter's hair around her fingers – in an attempt to make it curl – Tori turned around and held Miranda's hands firmly within her own. "_Thank you_, Mother. I quite sure I'm ready now."

"Oh, all right, all right," Miranda sighed, but even as she said it, she couldn't help but tuck a stray hair behind Tori's ear. "You're beautiful, you know."

Tori stared at her mother – at the lines and creases that'd formed on her face since Jeremiah's death. Yet, despite all the wrinkles, despite the sadness that always seemed to be lurking within her, there was still a strength there that kept her from crumbling. And Tori found that profoundly beautiful, which is why she replied, "I think it must run in the family."

"Silly girl," Miranda chuckled. "Go answer the door."

Tori opened the door to find Christopher – the boy she was going to the dance with – waiting patiently on the other side. He smiled when he saw her; a small, sweet smile that set Tori's heart racing. Christopher was the same age as her, and they'd been a little more than acquaintances for a long time – saying hello when they passed each other in the street, occasionally stopping for a quick chat – though it was only recently that Tori found herself drawn by his quiet voice, his gentle manner and his curly hair which was the colour of the dark ink she'd once spilled on him when they were younger. He must have started noticing things about her as well; in the last two months, their quick exchanges had become longer, he'd laughed at more of her jokes, and she'd caught him staring at her more than once.

"Ready to go?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"Ready," Tori nodded. She gave a quick wave to her mother before she closed the door and took Christopher's arm. They walked to the beach, where the dance was held, exchanging compliments and talking about nothing special. When they reached the surf, Tori was excited by how it was decorated.

Different types of seashells had been strung on a long piece of thread and hung around the beach from poles that also held lanterns. The lanterns hadn't been lit yet as there was still an hour or so until sunset. Five boys – aged fourteen to eighteen years old – who the villagers liked to call the 'Musical Mass' had situated themselves in the centre of the beach and were warming up and tuning their homemade instruments. Next to them was a long table full of food. Bread, different cheeses, meat pies, fruit pies, cakes and cupcakes. Christopher went to get them both something to eat, and while he was gone, Gwaine arrived with Violet – a tall, willowy girl with white-blond hair who was renowned within their small town for her ability to talk for hours on end; so it was no surprise that Violet looked busy chattering away spiritedly while Gwaine laughed occasionally. Tori saw his eyes roam the beach until they landed on her, and he grinned, making his way over to her, Violet not far behind.

Elen turned up soon after with a boy whose name Tori didn't know. When Christopher came back they all talked for a while – Violet did most of the talking, and Tori found herself thinking that it was a good thing her voice was pleasant to listen to – until the Musical Mass started playing and Christopher asked Tori to dance. It was sometime during their third dance that Tori noticed that her cousin looked troubled. Elen was dancing with the boy she'd arrived with, but every so often she would glance uneasily over his shoulder. Tori followed her gaze to see Tobias talking animatedly with a small group of friends but he, too, would look over at Elen once in a while, with something close to hurt on his face.

Tori sighed to herself. She'd had a feeling something like this would happen. She suddenly stopped dancing and excused herself, telling Christopher she needed to talk to Elen. Tori strode over to her cousin and pulled her away with an apologetic smile to her dancing partner.

"Hey!" Elen protested, indignant to being dragged away. "What is the matter with you, Tori?"

"What's the matter with _you_?" Tori whispered fiercely, once they'd reached a fairly secluded spot, just out of reach of the lanterns (which had been lit just minutes before the sun had disappeared from the sky completely). "Can't you see what you're doing to that poor boy over there?"

"What? Who, Toby?" said Elen, using the nickname that Tobias only let her use – which just made Tori even more mad about how those two were going about doing things. "I'm not doing anything to him!"

"Exactly! But you _should_ be doing things to him! Wait–" Tori paused, rethinking what she'd just said. "That sounds wildly inappropriate, but what I mean is, you should've come to the dance with him, Elen. I know you wanted to, and it's clear that he wanted to!"

"_Then why didn't he say so_?" Elen said heatedly.

This time, Tori actually did grab Elen's shoulders and shake her. Not hard, just enough to show her how exasperating the whole situation was. "You _know _how shy he is!"

Elen pushed Tori's hands off of her, and there was an edgy silence between them. Finally, Tori said, more gently this time, "You both want to be with each other. Anyone can see that. It's not worth it, to play these games."

"You're one to talk," Elen said, not exactly nastily, but with a kind of sharpness to her voice. Before Tori could ask what she meant, Elen had already continued on, sighing, "I should've listened to you before. About asking him myself. It's just that I've never had to do it before." She paused, then laughed nervously, adding, "That makes me sound horribly pathetic, doesn't it?"

"No! Well...just a bit." Tori and Elen laughed together, and the tension between them dissipated. Then Tori said, "It's all right, though; I think we're all allowed to be a little pathetic at some point in our lives. As long as it doesn't go on for too long."

Elen quirked her mouth up in a half-smile. "I suppose I should go sort things out with Toby now, shouldn't I?"

"You don't need me to answer that."

* * *

><p>"What's going on?" Gwaine appeared next to Tori as soon as she'd re-joined the festivities. "Things looked pretty intense over there for a while."<p>

"Oh, it was nothing. Just private family matters," Tori said breezily.

"Didn't seem like nothing," Gwaine commented.

Tori glanced at him sideways. "Why were you watching us, anyway? Where's Violet?"

"Hm? Oh, she's over there, keeping your boy company."

"He's not my boy."

"Not yet, you mean?"

"Gwaine, do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Stop talking."

"Except that."

"You are _maddening_," Tori groaned, but she was smiling.

"You know what would be maddeningly brilliant?" he didn't wait for an answer. "To see the look on Henry's face when someone puts this little guy down his shirt." Gwaine had kneeled down to the sand. When he stood back up, he was holding a small wriggling brown crab coated with sand, trying to get free.

Tori had to admit, she would have loved to see how that would play out, but something told her that this was _not_ a good idea. Maybe it was what her father had told her so long ago about Henry's family being influential, about how her family couldn't afford to be in their bad books. Now more than ever, as their only source of income was Miranda and Tori's dresses, which Henry's mother frequently bought.

"That _would_ be hilarious," she finally said, "but I don't think you should."

"What? Why not?" Gwaine asked, narrowing his eyes incredulously.

"Everyone's having such a nice time. And for once, Henry's minding his own business."

"Yeah, well that's because he's been snogging his lady friend for half the evening."

"Then think of it this way…what's this crab ever done to you to deserve such a cruel fate?"

He snorted. "I suppose you've got a point – no creature should have to endure the inside of Henry's shirt. The inside of Henry's anything, really," he added cheekily, earning himself a smack on the arm.

Gwaine stepped closer to the waves and let the crab go. When he came back, there was suddenly a gleam in his eyes, and he held out his hands to her. "Let's dance."

Tori barked out a laugh – mostly out of surprise. "Let's not."

"What, are you worried you'll tread on my feet?"

"Not at all. I'd happily tread on your feet."

"Then what's the problem?"

"We came here with different people."

"So? It's just a friendly dance."

A slow grin crept across Tori's face. "Oh, all right."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope two things. One: that you found this chapter at least moderately pleasing, and two: that you all had a restful break and a happy new year. :)<strong>

**As for me, I've just started university (AHHH!) so if there aren't any updates in a while, that'll be the reason. The assignments are already piling on. x_x**

**And to the anon who asked: the Necklace Origins – as I like to call it – will be in chapter 7. So stick around. ;P**


	6. Chapter 6

**So I had a day off classes and instead of studying, like I told myself I'd do, I ended up writing. And that is why this update was so quick (by my standards, anyway).**

**This chapter is dedicated to all you Gwapple shippers out there. Do enjoy. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

The sun was setting as Tori made her way home from a friend's house. The narrow street emptying as children were called inside by parents and shopkeepers packed up their merchandise. This was the best time of day, Tori thought. When the constant hum died down and gave way to a calm stillness, and soft candlelight illuminated each window. The peace Tori felt in that moment almost made her forget the problems that'd been on her mind the whole day.

Almost.

She was almost home when she saw Christopher standing in front of his house, holding the door partway open. He'd seen her too, much to her chagrin. They exchanged a stiff nod, nothing more. Things had been awkward between the two of them since they broke it off with each other. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. Things had been awkward between them since Christopher had broken it off with Tori. After the dance on the beach, they'd been together for about four months when Christopher suddenly confronted her about her "relationship" with Gwaine. He'd told her that he couldn't be with a girl who spent more time with another boy than she did with him. He hadn't offered her an ultimatum; perhaps already knowing who she'd choose. Tori supposed she should be gutted about the break up, but mostly she felt sad to lose Christopher as a friend and, to be honest, a little peeved at him too. How could he have been jealous about the amount of time Tori spent with her _best friend_? It wasn't like it was a lot of time, either. Since the dance, Gwaine had seemed to find his footing when it came to girls, leaving little time for Gwaine and Tori to spend time together like they used to. After Violet, there was Maggie then Samantha and, most recently, Lauren.

When Tori finally reached her house, she saw three familiar shadows inside: her mother, aunt and cousin. This was no surprise. Elen and Aunt Margaret had practically moved in with Tori and her mother ever since Miranda's health problems started. One morning Miranda had woken up and found it almost impossible to move. She'd told Tori that it felt as if she were made of wood, like her joints creaked in protest at every movement. The stiffness passed after about an hour, but if Miranda stayed still for even a moment, she would feel the tautness return. For the past month Tori had had to work on double the amount of orders as usual, as her mother could hardly even thread a needle in her condition. Aunt Marge tried to help as much as she could, but lacking the quick, deft hands that her sister and niece possessed (or used to possess, in her sister's case), she could only help with keeping the small house in shape and helping Miranda exercise her joints. Elen often sat beside Tori as she worked, trying to make her cousin smile as she raced to complete the orders, often having to remind her to slow down lest she poke more holes in her fingers.

Miranda did not leave the house. She would not let the other villagers see her until she got better, but Tori feared she would never get better. Sometimes, for a few hours, the stiffness would subside and Miranda would be like her old self again, but then it would come back with a vengeance. The local healer came by the house sometimes to drop off a bottle of pain reliever, but they were so expensive and Miranda went through one bottle so quickly. It was never enough.

Earlier today Tori had finished off the last dress. As soon as she sewed the last stitch, she'd thrown the silken thing onto the workbench and went out for some air. Her first instinct was to see Gwaine, but then she remembered Lauren and thought better of it. And Elen was with Tobias, so Tori sought out the company of Violet, the girl Gwaine had taken to the dance last year. He and she had only been together a few weeks after that, but in those few weeks Tori had found out that although Violet could talk non-stop, she _would _stop if she sensed that someone simply required a listening ear. Tori had liked that about her, and soon the two had become friends.

Now, as Tori stood outside her home, it was clear that there was an argument raging inside.

"Would you stop being so damn _proud_? It is not a sin to accept help, sister!" Aunt Marge's usually soft voice was barely recognizable as she yelled.

"Giving someone money is not help; it is an insult!" Miranda replied heatedly.

"Not if I expect you to pay me back! Which I do." It was obvious Aunt Marge was only saying that to appease her older sister.

"Do not give me that, Margaret. We both know full well that I could never pay you back. Not while this ailment plagues me."

"Sister, please." Aunt Marge's shadow sat down next to Miranda's. "Whispers of your sickness have spread. Victoria takes after you in that she is a skilled seamstress, but women do not want to buy dresses from sixteen-year-old girls. Women want to buy dresses from women. Those who have bought from you all these years will start turning to your rivals."

"I'll think of something," Miranda said quietly, "but I will not take your money. You have your own girl to think about."

"Elen is almost full grown, and the way things are going with that baker boy of hers, I doubt she will stay in this nest for long." There was a playfulness in Aunt Marge's voice that made Tori smile. She imagined Elen blushing on the other side of the door.

Tori's mother chuckled then gently said, "Be that as it may, you are my little sister, and I am the one who's supposed to take care of you. I will not take your money," she repeated.

Something in her voice left no room for discussion.

* * *

><p>It was the middle of summer, but the night air was cool. The air in Tori's side of town was always cool, as it was closest to the beach. The sweet ocean breeze rolled through the small room where Miranda and Aunt Marge shared the bed and Elen and Tori slept on the floor.<p>

Tori's sleep was troubled. Aunt Marge's earlier words kept repeating themselves in her head. _Women do not want to buy dresses from sixteen-year-old girls_. Tori wasn't sure how accurate that was; Henry's mother usually loved her dresses, but still it niggled at her mind. She _had _noticed that there were less orders coming in, but what could she do about it? Her real strength was sewing; in all other things she was simply mediocre, and even if she was good at something, she certainly wasn't good enough to make a living off of it. These thoughts kept Tori tossing and turning for most of the night. She had just about given up on sleep when a figure appeared in the window closest to her, blocking out the faint moonlight from outside. Her heart raced as fear ran through her. She slowly reached out to grab the nearest thing she could use as a weapon, but then the figure spoke, and it was with Gwaine's voice.

"Vicky?" he said in a low voice, using the hated nickname. "You awake in there?"

Tori sighed, both relieved and annoyed. She sat up and went to the window. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"It's too hot in Timothy's house. Thought I'd come to your neck of the woods." Tori couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was smiling.

"Well you're not sleeping in here, if that's what you're after!"

Gwaine choked back a laugh. "I'm not 'after' anything. I just meant that this part of the village is always cooler, that's all."

Behind Tori, Miranda stirred in her sleep. Tori gently closed the window and went outside so that her voice and Gwaine's wouldn't disturb her family.

"So I was going to go to the beach," Gwaine continued fluidly, like they'd never stopped talking. "Do a spot of star-gazing."

"There aren't any stars out tonight," Tori pointed out.

"Moon-gazing, then."

"The clouds are covering the moon."

"I– Oh, stop looking so smug."

Tori grinned, and turned back to the door. "All right then, if that's all you wanted to tell me, have fun _not_ star-gazing."

"Where do you think you're going?" Gwaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To…sleep?"

"No you're not; you're coming with me," Gwaine said, as though this was evident.

"Oh really?" Tori crossed her arms, her voice playfully derisive. "Why was I not informed?"

Gwaine smirked. "I'm informing you now, Vicky."

"Stop calling me that!"

"You love it."

Tori scowled. "I really _don't_."

"If you want me to stop, come. This blanket's big enough for two. And I brought apples." Only then did Tori notice the rolled up blanket tucked under one of his arms, and a burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

She peered at him. "Why didn't you ask Lauren?"

Gwaine made a face. "She doesn't like apples."

Tori snorted, shook her head. "Let me get my cloak."

* * *

><p>Once they'd made their way to the shoreline – with little help from the erratic moonlight – Gwaine and Tori laid the blanket on the sand and proceeded to feast on ripe, red apples. The sound of their talk and laughter competed with that of the waves pounding against the sand.<p>

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Tori sighed contentedly during a lull in the conversation. Her stomach ached from laughing so much; the first time in a long time.

"Hm?" Gwaine was too busy chewing to form a proper reply. "What's been a while?"

"Ugh," Tori laughed, holding up her hands to shield herself from the apple bits that flew from his mouth. "You eat like a pig!"

"I'm always as hungry as a pig," Gwaine complained.

"The saying is 'hungry as a horse', you idiot."

"No, I think pigs get hungrier. Have you seen the way they attack their food when it's given to them?"

"Yes, I'm seeing it right now," Tori quipped.

"Oh, very funny," Gwaine rolled his eyes. "What were you saying? What's been a while?"

"What? Oh, nothing, just…us…spending time together."

"Well you've been holed up in your house for the better part of the last month."

Tori glared at him, not that he'd be able to see it in the darkness. Her voice was sharp, though, when she said, "You know why."

"Yeah, I know. How is your mother?"

"Getting worse, I think," Tori said, frowning. "And I don't mean physically."

When Gwaine didn't say anything, she realized how that might've sounded. "Not mentally either! She's not crazy! I just meant…y'know, her morale is down. And she's stressed about money…she's just not herself as of late."

"Can't blame her."

"No, of course not. I don't. It's just…I wish I could do something to help."

"Wed a rich man," Gwaine suggested, only half joking. Tori didn't laugh.

The air had become heavy between them. Gwaine didn't like it.

"Speaking of…nothing related to what I'm about to say now," he blurted, changing the subject ever so tactfully, "I saw Christopher today." He paused, to see if she wanted the subject changed. When she didn't give him any kind of reproach he went on. "He gave me…a look."

"What kind of look?" said Tori, taking the bait.

"An 'I-want-to-poke-you-with-a-lance' kind of look."

"Oh, I hate those." She grinned as she bit into a fresh apple.

"You know, I've always wondered," Gwaine began, a slow crooked smile appearing on his face, "how far'd you get with him?"

Tori almost choked on her apple. "You wondered _what_?"

"Oh, y'know, how far did you and he go before–"

"That is _none_ of your business!"

"I see. Far enough that you won't tell me, then," Gwaine said sagely, then ducked to avoid the apple core thrown at him. "Was he any good?"

"He…he was a good _kisser._ As for…_the rest of it_, I wouldn't know," Tori said pointedly, grateful for the darkness so Gwaine couldn't see her flushed face. "Honestly!" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "The questions you ask sometimes."

Gwaine grinned a roguish grin and languidly lay down on the blanket, hands behind his head. "Lauren wants to wait until marriage," he said casually.

"She– wait. You two've already talked about marriage?"

"No, no, no, _she's_ talked about marriage."

"Oh right, because she's _so_ in love with you," Tori said wryly.

"She _did_ say she would die for me."

Tori raised her eyebrows. "Oh, God," she scoffed.

"What?"

"I just hate it when people say that. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Pretty clear, isn't it?" Gwaine said. "If you love someone, you'd willingly lay down your life for them, right?"

"But that's the thing that bothers me, see." Tori lay on her side now, propping herself up on her right elbow. "If you truly loved that person, why would you be so willing to die? If you die, you don't get to be with them anymore, and they don't get to be with you. It's stupid. You're dead, and you've left behind someone who can't live without you."

At that point Gwaine propped himself up as well. "What if they died trying to protect you? What if they died so you could live?"

"Fat lot of good that does me!"

Gwaine was silent as the realization struck him; he felt stupid for having taken so long. She was talking about her father. Of course she was. Jeremiah had put the lives of his wife and daughter before his, and now he was dead. In Tori's eyes, he'd left them.

"What's the point?" she asked Gwaine, her voice quiet. "If someone who makes your life wonderful is gone, what's the point?"

After a moment he replied, "I don't know. You just do the best you can, I suppose."

"I suppose," she echoed. She sighed and rolled onto her back. He did the same. Just then, the moon decided to show its silver face. A sliver of it anyway. It was a crescent moon.

"That's my favourite," Gwaine said, "when the moon's like that."

That came as no surprise to Tori. It suited him, she thought. The bit of the moon they could see shone brightly, bathing the surrounding clouds with its light. Yet there was always that section covered in darkness, in mystery. When Gwaine hunted, when he drank, when he talked of Henry and the hatred he held for nobles, when he fought – he was like the dark side of the moon. Yet still, she asked, "Why?"

"Because that's how it looked when my mother brought me to the beach for the first time. We swam all day and stared up at that moon for most of the night."

"Sounds nice," Tori murmured. Her eyes felt heavy.

"Tori?"

"Hm?"

"Just so you know," Gwaine turned his head to look at her, "I would never die for you."

The smile Tori gave him was small, but genuine. "You promise?"

"Only if you do."

"I wouldn't die for you, either," she replied as she tried – in vain – to fight back a yawn. It caught on, and soon Gwaine was yawning as well. Tori had no desire to sleep on the beach, but she didn't see the harm in resting her eyes for just a moment, taking in the briny air, the caressing breeze, the rhythmic sound of the waves. She closed her eyes. Just for a second…

Tori woke up to the sweet scent of apples all around her. She kept her eyes shut and breathed deeply in, filling her lungs with it, thinking it was the best smell in the world. She burrowed her nose deeper into her pillow where it seemed to be coming from, pulled it closer to her. Her eyes snapped open when she realized.

Her pillow had a heartbeat.

She shot up into a sitting position, horrified as she took in her surroundings. Sand and water everywhere; daylight crawling into the clouds in the east; a burlap sack once filled with apples now full only with their cores. And worst of all, Gwaine lying next to her, snoring softly. Tori hit him in the stomach, hard. He awoke like a cat threatened, crouched on his feet like he expected a fight. He might just get one with the way Tori was glaring at him.

"Why'd you hit me?" he asked, rubbing his stomach.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" she shot back.

For a moment, he looked confused. "What? Oh, last night. You looked tired; I wasn't about to wake you up!"

Tori just shook her head and stood up to leave. "I have to get back home before my mother notices I'm gone."

She half ran back to her house, only a couple minutes away from the surf. Most people were too busy setting up their market stalls to pay her much attention, and for that, Tori was grateful. When she reached her small house, relief flooded her. Nothing but silence came through the still-closed windows. She was at the door – and fully convinced that she'd made it – when Elen opened the door, carrying an empty water bucket. The two cousins stared at each other for a moment; Elen surprised, Tori apprehensive.

Elen did a once-over on Tori, taking in her disheveled hair, anxious blue eyes and sand-flecked dress. A movement to her right caught Elen's eye, and she turned to see Gwaine coming toward them from the direction of the beach looking much in the same state as Tori: tousled hair, sandy clothes, carrying a blanket under his arm.

Elen's eyes brightened and her mouth made an 'o'. And she sounded much too giddy when next she spoke.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

* * *

><p><strong>PSA: If you like stories with an amazing OC, I URGE you to check out <strong>_**A Woman of War, A Kingdom of Strife**_** by Ardent Apathy. I stumbled across it a few days ago, and read it straight through in one sitting, which I don't normally do. What are you still doing here? Go read and review it now! Um, after you review this chapter, that is. xD**

**(And no, the author didn't ask me to do this. I've never even spoken to her, other than reviewing the story, but I just think it's a truly great fic that deserves more reviews than it has. Okay? Okay.)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this update took so long, guys. Real life – you know how it is. u_u But guess what! This story turned a year old on Friday the 13th! And it's not even halfway finished yet…lulz.**

**Anyway, y'all have no idea how excited-yet-anxious I am to post these next two chapters. It's going to be something like a two-parter. The next one will be set straight after. No year gap. Not even a minute gap.**

**So here we go.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

Tori knew something wasn't right as soon as she woke up. Before she even saw her mother sitting at the foot of her bed, there was something in the air; a heavy silence instead of the usual bustle caused by Miranda – or more likely, Aunt Marge – moving about the small house. Tori quickly sat up, pushing dark brown hair back from her face to see her mother at the foot of the bed, staring down at her hands with eyebrows knitted together so tightly Tori could almost feel the wrinkles forming on her own skin.

"Mother?" she asked, alarm chasing away her grogginess. "What's wrong?"

Miranda continued to stare at her hands for the longest time. When she finally looked up at her daughter; her eyes shone with unshed tears. "My dear," she said softly, "I'm so sorry. I hate to have to ask this of you. You know I wouldn't if there were _any_ other way. But do keep in mind that it's also what's best for you, as well…"

"What? Ask what? Mother, you're not making any sense."

"I…" Quite suddenly Miranda shook her head, as if clearing it, and stood up – with some difficulty. "What was I thinking, this early in the morning? No, no. Get yourself out of bed, love. Wash your face. Then we'll talk."

The speed with which Miranda's demeanor had changed left Tori disoriented, unable to gather her thoughts for a second or two. She felt a little irritated in spite of herself. How could her mother be so troubled one second and then just shake it off the next? In the end, though, Tori did as she was told – as was her habit – and when she was ready, sat down beside Miranda. But nothing could have prepared her for what she'd hear next.

* * *

><p>That was days ago. Three, to be exact.<p>

It was three days ago that Tori was told of what Miranda had planned for her. Three days ago that she stormed out after the horrible fight they'd had. Three days ago that she'd immediately regretted it; feeling guilty when she thought of the helplessly pleading look on her mother's face, or of what her father would say if he were alive at that moment. _Sacrifices have to be made for the sake of family, always._And it was two days ago that Tori had returned to her mother, tail between her legs, and apologized.

"There is _no_ need for apology, love," Miranda had said, her gnarled hands cupping her daughter's tear-stained face. "I'm the one who's sorry that you have to be in this situation."

"But I _don't_," Tori tried one last time. "Please, Mother, let me stay with you. I'll find work, I swear it. There are plenty of farms around here that need a hand. Just…please _please _don't make me do this."

Miranda caressed her daughter's cheek once more. "He demanded it, Tori. The plans have already been made."

"But–"

"_Victoria_," Miranda's voice was firm. "This is a good thing. I promise."

In the days since, Tori barely spoke to anyone except Violet, who talked enough for the both of them. She took special care to avoid Gwaine, dodging him whenever possible – walking the other way when she saw him in the street, avoiding his gaze when he tried to catch hers, claiming she had to be somewhere else when he managed to catch up to her. He knew her well enough to know that this behaviour was far from normal, so one day, he'd cornered her as she was leaving Violet's house and demanded to know what was going on.

"What d'you mean? Nothing's going on," Tori had said lamely, trying – but failing – to hold his gaze.

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, reproachful. "Don't lie to me, Tori. We both know you've been avoiding me. What is it? Did I say something? Do something?"

"No, I've just– I've been busy, all right? You're making a fuss out of nothing."

Gwaine gaped at her incredulously. "I'm not making a _fuss_, Tori," he'd said slowly, "I'm just wondering why my best friend is ignoring me."

Tori had stared at him then, with a look in her eyes that Gwaine couldn't quite place. Abruptly, she mumbled something about needing to get home, walking away before the sentence was even finished.

"Talk to you later, then," Gwaine had said to her retreating back, though he wasn't so sure. He stared after Tori long after she'd disappeared from his sight, feeling troubled. His friend – he thought the word sullenly – hadn't seemed herself the past few days, and not even Elen would tell him why. He wondered if Tori even remembered that it was his birthday tomorrow; his eighteenth birthday. The only reason _he _even remembered was because she was the one who had – before she started acting weird – reminded him, over and over and over again. Tori never forgot his birthday, and made sure it never went unnoticed. She always set aside her responsibilities for the day to spend it with him. Gwaine had told her, on numerous occasions, that she made too big a fuss over it, but she'd simply shrugged it off and joked, "Don't flatter yourself too much. It's more of an excuse to give myself a day off, more than anything."

Finally, Gwaine turned and went back to Timothy's home, figuring that whenever Tori was ready to, she'd tell him what was bothering her. She always did.

The next morning, Gwaine was unceremoniously woken up when a heavy hand roughly mussed up his hair. He heard Timothy's gravelly laughter. "Wake up, birthday boy; I've got somethin' for ya."

Gwaine groaned, refusing to open his eyes. "Later," he muttered into his pillow.

"It's not really from me though," Timothy continued, ignoring the teenager's morning grumpiness. "It's from your mother."

That got Gwaine's attention. He sat up so fast it took a moment before the world stopped spinning. He jumped out of bed and went over to where the blacksmith sat holding something small in his hands. Timothy hid the object from view before Gwaine could see what it was.

"What do you mean, it's from my mother?" Gwaine asked, sitting next to his guardian.

"She gave it to me to give to you."

"When?"

Timothy paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "The day before she passed. You were out looking for food, and she called me over to her. I think…I think she had a feeling she didn't have much time left."

Gwaine clenched his jaw, not wanting to remember how breakable his mother had looked in her final days.

"She told me, that when you turned eighteen, to give you this." Timothy relaxed his fisted hand to reveal a gleaming gold ring; a man's ring, by the look of it. Gwaine had seen it once before. His mother had kept it in a hand-sewn pocket under the mattress. It was the only thing they owned that had real value, but Michelle had refused to sell it.

"That's my father's ring," Gwaine stated.

"It's the ring he gave your mother when they were betrothed," Timothy said, holding it out to Gwaine, who simply stared at it. "She wanted you to have it."

Hesitantly, Gwaine picked up the ring, turning it over. It was a simple band; no embellishments or engravings, just smooth, polished metal. It was probably just wishful thinking, but it was as if Gwaine could feel his parents' history in the ring. His father a knight and his mother a farmer's daughter. They had made it, despite their love being looked down upon by…well, everyone. Gwaine tightened his fingers around the ring.

"And this is from me." Timothy reached behind him and pulled out a fine-looking dagger, gleaming in the early morning sunlight like the ocean at midday. "Happy birthday, my boy."

Gwaine smiled at the nickname. Timothy hadn't called him 'my boy' since he was eight years old. "Thank you, Tim," he said, taking the dagger and its sheath. The blacksmith nodded, clapped him on the shoulder and left the room, leaving him to his own devices.

Once Gwaine was washed and dressed, he packed the leftovers from last night's supper into a bag ready to take with him into the forest, as was tradition. For four years now, ever since Tori's father had forbidden her from seeing him, he and Tori would meet there to celebrate his birthday. For that one day, she was willing to set aside her aversion to the woods – on the condition that they would spend her birthday on the beach. Even after Jeremiah had passed, they'd continued doing this, even though they had no real reason to anymore. It simply felt nice to have something extra special to look forward to each year. Something that Gwaine and Tori shared between the two of them and no one else. Gwaine's mouth quirked up as a memory came to him, unbidden, of Tori's thirteenth birthday. They'd been lying on the sand, having just finished stuffing their faces with meat pies and fruits, when Tori had suddenly stood, bunched up her skirts and waded ankle-deep into the sea. Gwaine had only watched her, contemplating whether or not he should push her into the water when she turned towards him, beaming. The idea had come to Gwaine out of nowhere, and he hadn't hesitated.

He'd jumped up and began to strip.

Tori's face had been amused enough when it was only his shirt that he'd discarded, but when his hands reached down for the laces of his breeches, he could hear the alarm creep into her voice. "Gwaine…" and then "_Gwaine!_" when he'd swiftly pulled them down. When he looked back up, he saw that Tori had let go of her skirts, letting them touch the saltwater. He saw that her hands were otherwise occupied – covering her eyes. He'd laughed long and hard at that, and had kept laughing as he ran into the sea, much to Tori's irritation.

"Are you out of your mind?" she'd shouted in his general direction. "Put your clothes back on _now_! Gwaine!"

"Make me!"

"You arse! You're such a child!"

He chuckled. "Which one am I, a child or an arse?"

Exasperated, she'd whipped her hands away from her eyes to scowl at him, but – seeing how clear the water was – had immediately slapped them back to her face, which was so flushed by now that Gwaine almost drowned himself laughing.

There was a knock on the door that ripped Gwaine from the memory. To his chagrin, his heart skipped a beat.

"_Happy birthday, Gwaine!" _came the chorused shouts when he opened the door. Standing before him was a group of at least five girls – none of them Tori, he noticed. _Of course she wouldn't be here, you fool, _he chastised himself. She would be in the forest by now, in the field where they always met on this day. The girls in front of him now were all ones with whom he'd never spoken before, but they were all giggling, all tripping over each other to wish him the happiest birthday. They were sweet, he thought, and pretty enough, but none of them had the dark blue eyes he was looking for. The quietest of them, the one with the shyest smile, stepped forward and offered him one of Tobias's cupcakes. He accepted it graciously.

"Thank you, ladies," he managed to say, smiling easily. "I really appreciate it."

"D'you have any plans for today, Gwaine?" a little voice inquired. Gwaine looked down and saw a small girl he hadn't noticed before – she couldn't have been more than six years old, but her eyes were bold. "My sister really wants you to play with her."

"KIERRA," an older girl – probably the sister – shrieked, mortified, and grabbed a very puzzled Kierra by the arm, dragging her away. Gwaine almost burst out laughing. The other girls, also snickering, scurried away after Kierra and her sister, glowing with the thought that they had made his day. Once they were out of sight Gwaine let out his laughter, shaking his head. Finally he calmed himself down and grabbed the bag of food he'd packed earlier and made his way to the woods, smiling.

* * *

><p>He'd been waiting for almost three hours now.<p>

Gwaine judged that it was a little past noon, though he couldn't be entirely sure due to the dark, gloomy sky. It was going to rain. And soon.

_Where is she?_

They always met in the morning, so why wasn't she here yet? Gwaine thought – well, he'd been _hoping _that Tori's unusual behaviour from the past few days would have subsided by now. And if not, then surely she could put her problems aside for one day? He didn't mean to sound selfish but…it was his _birthday_. Tori had always been the one to make sure it didn't go uncelebrated.

After the second hour had passed, with no sign of her, Gwaine had reasoned that maybe her mother was having one of her attacks again. When Miranda had these attacks, she wasn't able to move at all for when she did, it would cause extreme pain. Gwaine had been at Tori's house the first time this had happened. All of them – Gwaine, Tori, Elen, Miranda and Aunt Marge – had been having a good time, talking about nothing in particular but laughing like mad, when Miranda had suddenly doubled over and cried out. The attack lasted forever, or that's what it seemed like. In truth, it was only several minutes. Several long, excruciating minutes. Tori hadn't left her mother's side the whole time; she stayed beside Miranda, holding her hand and stroking her sweat-drenched hair. She'd whispered things like, "It's all right, Mother, it'll pass. You're all right. You'll be okay," over and over again. Gwaine had had the feeling that she wasn't trying to convince only Miranda.

When the third hour passed by, Gwaine realized he was pacing. He wasn't able to tell anymore whether it was because he was worried or annoyed. Perhaps both. The thundering sky certainly wasn't improving his mood any. He was just about to leave when, behind him, the sound of a twig breaking made him freeze.

"Don't shoot!" Tori emerged from behind a tree with her hands defensively in the air, a small smile playing on her lips.

Gwaine relaxed, and found himself smiling as well. "I wasn't going to."

"Well, you never know," Tori said, shrugging. "You're always on hunter-mode in this place."

Suddenly Gwaine realized that Tori's smile didn't reach her eyes. He remembered his concerns from a few moments ago. "How's your mother?"

For a second, she seemed confused. "What? Oh, she's…fine. As fine as she ever gets, anyway."

Gwaine frowned. "So she hasn't had any attacks lately?"

At this, Tori's smile turned genuine. "No, not for a few days, thank God."

"So…the reason you're late _isn't_ because you were taking care of her." It wasn't a question.

Tori stared at him, judging his tone. "No."

Now Gwaine was sure: he was annoyed. Furious, actually. "Then _what the hell_ took you so long?"

"What—?"

"You were supposed to— I've been waiting— Why didn't you—?" He was having trouble finishing his sentences, that's how angry, irritated, _hurt_ he was. And not just because she'd kept him waiting; that, he couldn't care less about. He didn't mind waiting for her. He was used to it. And God knows, he'd made her wait on more than one occasion. What he _did _mind was how she'd been acting the last several days. Avoiding him, dodging his questions, not trusting him enough to tell him what was bothering her.

"I'm going to ask you this one more time, Tori. _What's wrong_?" Gwaine sounded tired even to his own ears.

For a moment, it looked as if Tori would burst into tears – a prospect that terrified Gwaine. In all the years he had known her, he'd only seen her cry two times. Once, when her father died, and another, when Timothy's old horse Cloud fell ill and had to be put down. It seemed as if the third time would be today, but then Tori took a deep breath and composed herself.

"Well?" Gwaine softly prompted.

She hesitated a moment, gauging her next words carefully. "I'm sorry, Gwaine. I really am. I know I've been a lousy excuse for a friend lately—"

He frowned again at that word. _Friend._

"—but I just…I can't tell you. I don't know how to. I'm sorry."

Gwaine closed his eyes; pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. So be it." He walked around Tori to pick up the bag of food – which was most likely spoiled by now – and slung it over his shoulder.

"Gwaine?" he heard Tori call from behind him, as he made to leave. "Gwaine!"

He turned back to face her, hearing the annoyance in her voice. To his surprise, she didn't look miserable and pained like she had just moments before; now her face was reproachful. What had _he_ done wrong? Gwaine wondered.

"You seem to think this is all about you," Tori told him, "but it's not. It really has nothing to do with you."

He was stunned. "I don't think it's about m—"

"Oh, yes you do, or else you wouldn't be getting so worked up about my not telling you!"

"That's not why—"

"Just listen to me. _I will tell you what's going on _– actually, even if I never told you, you'd still find out in a few weeks, anyway – but the point is: I will tell you. But first you have to…let me come to terms with it. I have to deal with it on my own before I can say anything to you. Okay?"

"Fine," Gwaine said again, but this time he meant it. "Okay, fine."

"Okay." Tori half-laughed and half-sighed at the same time. And this time when she smiled, it touched her eyes. "So. Did we come here to fight, or to celebrate someone's birthday?"

"Are we still doing that?"

"Of course. That's what we normally do, isn't it?"

Gwaine scoffed. "There's nothing normal about today."

Tori's smile faded slightly at that. "That's true. But still…" Suddenly she took two long strides, closing the gap between Gwaine and herself, and wrapped her arms around him. "Happy birthday, Gwaine," she said quietly.

"Thanks."

Tori bit back her laughter at his stiffness. She knew that he was still holding on to some of the hurt, no matter how "fine" he said things were.

"I'm not letting go of you until you hug me back. Properly!" she added when he simply put a hand on her back. She felt his body shake in silent laughter as he hugged her back, tight.

After a long time, Gwaine finally said, "So d'you have a present for me, or what?"

Tori let him go and smiled. "Of course I do."

She reached down to unstring the laces of a small pouch she wore on a belt just above her hips, and pulled out something silver. As she handed it to Gwaine, she rambled. "It's not much, I know, but what can you expect when a seamstress tries to make jewellery with the help of a blacksmith? Neither of us should be allowed to make anything of the sort, though. Really, Tim and I were at each other's throats every time something went wrong. And that was almost all the time. But I wanted to do something different for you this year, not just make another shirt. It's a crescent moon. Well, it's supposed to be a crescent moon, anyway."

"Oh, really? I thought it was a crab claw," Gwaine said, grinning. Tori rolled her eyes at him, though he wasn't that far off. She looked down at the necklace she'd just given him; a simple chain, with a small pendant in the shape of Gwaine's favourite kind of moon.

"D'you like it?" she asked.

He smiled. "Can't you tell?"

"I don't know, you're just staring at it!"

At that, he laughed. "Just trying to figure out how to get it on."

"There's a clasp right there, you dolt. Or is it too small and delicate for your hands?"

"Yeah, all right, blame my hands and not your faulty craft-making."

"Shut up," Tori said, snatching the necklace from him. Gwaine watched her as she unclasped it easily – so much for faulty craft-making – and reached behind his neck to fasten it. He swallowed. They'd never been this close before; Tori's face was only a few inches from his own. She was shorter than him, but not by much. The top of her head came up to just above his nose. As she stepped back, he didn't fail to notice the slight redness in her cheeks, or how shallow her breathing had become, or the way her eyes flicked down to his mouth.

Tori's fingers trailed down the line of the chain to the crescent moon now resting comfortably just below Gwaine's throat. Before she could pull her hand away, Gwaine covered it with his, holding her there.

Tori glanced up at him. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know. I've just—I've missed you," he told her in a gentle voice she hadn't even known he possessed.

Her first instinct was to jokingly say that she hadn't gone anywhere, but something stopped her. There was _something_ in Gwaine's face. She'd never seen his dark eyes look so unguarded, so…tender. She couldn't answer those eyes with a joke. "I've missed you, too, Gwaine."

The next thing Tori knew, he'd rested a hand behind her neck, the other around her waist and he was pulling her closer – with his hands, with his eyes, with…just _him_. Tori closed her eyes tight, hating this. Hating how much she _wanted _it, and hating how much she wasn't supposed to. They were so close now. _So close_. It took every ounce of willpower for Tori to say what she knew she had to.

"Wait, stop. Gwaine, I can't."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

For a moment, Gwaine could only look at her. He looked down at the girl who, six years ago, had been a complete stranger to him. The girl who annoyed him, argued with him, made him laugh, made him think, made him happy, angry, excited, confused and all the other bloody emotions he could bloody think of. The girl who had grown to be the most important person in his life. And she had just pushed him away.

"I'm an idiot," he said finally, closing his eyes. Shutting them to the humiliation, the hurt. Thunder roared in the distance like a slow, sarcastic clap.

"No," Tori said gently. "You're not."

He scoffed. "I am. I'm a bloody idiot. God, I'm sorry, Tor. I thought you felt the same way or I wouldn't have –"

"Gwaine, you have _nothing_ to apologize for. It's just…it's more complicated than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Was this her way of letting him down easy? If so, it wasn't anywhere close to working. He hadn't had a drink in about a year – his life had been going pretty decently and to be honest, he didn't like the taste of alcohol – but right now all Gwaine wanted to do was go to the tavern and get drunk enough to forget his own name.

"The reason I've been acting so strangely the past few days…you're right, I was avoiding you." She was even avoiding him now, looking anywhere but at his face. "A few days ago, my mother told me something. That I had to do…something." Gwaine was silent. It looked like she was having a hard enough time choking out the words without him interrupting her. "She said that it would help us out a lot. You know how we've been having problems with money ever since…"

"I know."

"If I had known – God, if I'd known you felt this way I wouldn't have…"

Gwaine frowned. "Wouldn't have what?"

"I would never have agreed."

"Agreed to _what_, Tori?"

Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "To get married."

Maybe it was Gwaine's imagination, but it seemed to him that the sky turned greyer. The thunder sounded closer. He felt weighed down, oppressed by the heavy clouds. When was it going to rain?

"Gwaine?" Tori said when the silence between them stretched on. "Did you hear me?"

"I need it to rain."

"You..._what_?"

"The clouds, they've been like this for hours. I need it to _rain_."

The look on Tori's face almost made him laugh. It was so filled with confusion and annoyance – two emotions he often elicited in her. He didn't laugh, though. He couldn't. She didn't understand. He needed the clouds to open up and drench the earth – and him – in water or he would suffocate. The thunder sounded so close now. The air was too heavy, like hands as big as Timothy's were holding the sides of his head and pressing in. But he knew better. This feeling had nothing to do with the weather.

"You're getting married?" he asked her, as if he hadn't heard it the first time.

Tori was so anxious she bit her lip. "In less than a month. I just found out a few days ago which is why I couldn't tell you! I'm still trying to come to terms with it."

Gwaine couldn't find his voice to speak. Where just moments before he'd felt heavy and oppressed, now it was as if all the blood had been drained from his body. He felt light, weightless. The kind of weightlessness you feel when there's nothing holding you to the earth, when all you've ever known disappears and you don't know what to do with yourself.

"You can't," he said at last. "You can't get married." He realized he sounded like a pathetic little boy but he didn't care. Tori must have heard it too because that was when her tears finally fell.

"Weren't you the one who said I should wed a rich man?" she said, trying to make a joke of this painful situation. Of course, it didn't work. If anything it seemed to make him angry. The vulnerable young boy went away as quickly as he had come leaving behind...well, Gwaine.

"Whatever or whoever you _are_ doing this for, it sure as hell isn't for me, let's just get that straight. And you bloody well know I didn't mean it when I said that. So," he continued, after a pause, "who is it?"

Tori didn't have to ask who he meant. "You won't like the answer."

"I don't even like the question," Gwaine snapped. Then, remembering that this was probably just as difficult for her as it was for him, he softened. "Just tell me, Tori."

She hesitated, clearly not wanting to say the name...and that was enough. From the start Gwaine had had an inkling of who it might be, an inkling that grew when Tori had made the 'rich man' comment. But now he was almost completely sure. He just needed her to say it.

"It's Henry." Her voice was so soft that if he hadn't been expecting that particular name he would've missed it. "I'm marrying him after his knighting ceremony."

The despondent look on her face cut at his heart and filled him with rage at the same time. Gwaine ground his teeth. He was not going to lose Tori – least of all to that egotistical arsehole.

"Gwaine? Where are you going?" he heard her say as he turned around and started marching toward the village. He didn't reply – didn't trust himself to speak, as royally pissed off as he was. He picked up his pace just as the sky roared once more and finally let loose the rain he'd been waiting for. _Perfect bloody timing._

He was sodden by the time he reached the edge of the forest. Tori hadn't followed, he suddenly realized. Just as well. What he was about to do he didn't particularly want her to see. The dirt-packed streets of his small village were mostly empty save for a few rebellious children playing in the downpour. They waved and called out when they saw him, inviting him to join their mud fight. He barely noticed. Turning the corner, Gwaine found who he was looking for, taking shelter from the rain in the doorway of a shop.

"HENRY."

The blond boy had been talking to one of his friends but turned at the sound of his name. Gwaine walked up to him, his eyes as dark and dangerous as the clouds above. Henry elbowed his friend and smirked. "Looks like you've heard the happy news, huh, Gwaine?"

Gwaine almost punched him then and there. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just having a chat with my mate here. We're going to get knighted on the same day, you know. His father wasn't a nobleman, but he's a good enough fighter—"

"_With Tori._ What the hell are you doing with Tori?"

"Why, nothing," he said, grinning, "...yet."

At that Gwaine really couldn't restrain himself any longer. He grabbed Henry at the collar and shoved him into the door of the shop, ignoring the alarmed cries that came from within. Henry's fellow squire started to do something about it but was stopped when Henry raised a calm hand. "S'all right, Alfie. I'm afraid I've grown used to this."

"Why the sudden interest in Tori?" Gwaine growled, his face inches from the other boy's. "You're marrying her to get back at me for some petty reason or other, is that it?"

"You offend me, _sir_," Henry used the title mockingly. "You think I have some ulterior motive for this marriage? Can't it just be that I've fallen _hopelessly_ in love with her?"

Gwaine scoffed. "You don't love her any more than you love me."

"Well, you've caught me," the blond boy conceded. "All right, I'll tell you the real reason I want to marry her." He paused. That obnoxious sneer that Gwaine despised spread across Henry's face once more. "That body of hers. I can't wait until our wedding night when I get to—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Gwaine pulled him by the front of his shirt and hurled him into the mud. The knight-to-be got back up instantly, his expression twisted with rage. It made his loathsome face even uglier. Gwaine had just taken a step toward Henry when Alfie clouted him hard on the side of his head, knocking him temporarily unconscious. When Gwaine came to, just seconds later, both squires were standing over him. "You're going to pay, Gwaine," said Henry, his voice low. "There's a heavy penalty for attacking a knight."

"You're not a knight, though," he said scornfully. He spat on Henry's boots, earning himself a kick in the ribs from Alfie.

Henry pulled out his sword and pointed the tip at Gwaine's neck. "I'm more of a knight than you are. Probably more of a knight than your father ever was."

"Is that right? Because I'm quite certain that no self-respecting nobleman would hit an unarmed man."

"Arm yourself, then, and let's get this over with."

"Get your friend here to leave as well," Gwaine nodded to Alfie as he got to his feet and unsheathed his own sword – the one Tim had given him two years ago.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well you don't have to," Gwaine shrugged. "But if you don't I'll just assume it's because you're too afraid to fight me alone. Like you've always been."

Henry stuttered, turning red. "I've never been afraid of you!"

"Prove it."

Henry glowered at his fellow squire. "Well? Leave us!" Alfie did.

"This is the first time we've fought with steel," said the fair-haired boy, cutting at the air with his sword while keeping his eyes on Gwaine.

"Are you sure? I seem to recall getting my shoulder cut open by one of your friends' daggers."

"That dagger was probably iron, not steel."

"Funny," Gwaine said dryly. That was the last thing he said before he lunged at the other boy, attacking him with such ferocity that Henry's eyes widened and he almost slipped in the mud a few times while parrying Gwaine's blows. If Gwaine was sure of anything anymore, it was his proficiency with a sword. Timothy had gifted Gwaine with a wooden one when he was a mere five years old. The blacksmith had been teaching him how to use it ever since, letting him graduate to a real steel blade at the age of eleven. Outside of sparring sessions with Tim (and sometimes Tori), Gwaine didn't get many chances to use his skill – so it was with great satisfaction when he saw how his strikes and swipes kept Henry on his toes until the other boy was panting and grunting, always trying to deflect Gwaine's attacks, never getting the chance to be on the offensive.

People living in the houses and shops nearby peeked out their windows to see what all the noise was about. Seeing that it was a swordfight between Gwaine and Henry – the only two boys in the village of noble birth – most were keen to keep watching. But the rain was so heavy and the wind was so strong that leaving their windows open meant getting the inside of their houses wet.

Rainwater kept getting in Gwaine's eyes, making it hard to see, and he was getting cold. Too cold to keep fighting for much longer. "What's your agenda with Tori?" he had to yell to be heard over the howling wind.

"I've already told you," Henry shouted back, grunting as he finally got in an offensive strike.

"That's rubbish! If you just wanted her for her body, you wouldn't marry her! And you wouldn't have been so smug when I found out. So what is it?"

Henry didn't say anything. He seemed to be concentrating even harder on the fight.

"Come on, tell me," Gwaine huffed between blows. "Tell me what I can do so you won't marry her."

"Are you telling me you really don't know?" said Henry, suddenly standing still. He was panting hard. "You don't remember?"

Thrown a bit off guard by the other boy's abrupt change in behaviour, it took Gwaine a moment to answer. "Remember what?"

"Unbelievable." Henry's face was reddening again, his expression one of fury and indignation. "Bloody unbelievable! You steal the love of my life and you don't even remember!"

Gwaine was at a complete loss. "What are you on about? I didn't steal anything from you."

"Lauren," the squire said, as if that explained everything.

"_Lauren_? Lauren wasn't even with—"

"I know she wasn't! But she and I went to that dance on the beach together – there was something between us. I was going to ask her to _marry_ me. And then you came along and when you were done with her, she wouldn't have anything to do with me!"

"Are you sure she didn't want anything to do with you only _after_ I went out with her?"

"You—" Henry flung his sword to the mud and charged at Gwaine, tackling him to the ground, shouting obscenities all the while. "You took the girl I love," he snarled in Gwaine's ear, "so now I'm taking yours." The fight that took place then was more brutal than any swordfight could ever be. Henry was releasing about a year's worth of this pent up fury over his alleged "stolen love" but Gwaine was giving just as good as he got. They might have killed each other in the end if someone hadn't interfered.

The two nobleman's sons sprang apart when a sudden torrent of cold water washed over them. When Gwaine wiped the mud and water from his eyes he looked up to realize two things. One: it'd stopped raining, and two: Tori was standing in front of him, panting heavily like she'd been running, with an empty bucket in her hands. Henry stood up, sputtering angrily. "How _dare _you drench me like that? Do you take me for a feral dog?"

"You were behaving like dogs, the both of you!" Tori spat. Her tone was acidic but Gwaine could hear the slight tremor in her voice. The squire bared his teeth and grabbed her upper arm so hard she dropped the bucket. Gwaine jumped up and was about to throw Henry back on the ground, but a look from Tori stopped him.

"When you are my wife you won't speak to me with such insolence." Henry let her go and walked away swiftly without looking back. Gwaine rushed to Tori's side and tenderly held the part of her arm that the other boy had grabbed.

"You all right? Did he hurt you?"

In answer, Tori slapped his hand away. "That was utterly _stupid_ attacking him that way! He's practically a knight already; he can do some actual damage now!"

"He's already done the damage," Gwaine argued. "Tori, you can't wed him. He's only marrying you to get back at me!"

"Obviously!" she said, scowling. "Don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid enough to believe he actually harbours any affection for me."

"Then for God's sake, _don't marry him_."

"His family has their own physician, Gwaine. I could get my mother all the pain relief medicine she needs for _free_."

Gwaine was silent for a long time. He ran his hands through his wet hair, looking almost like he was going to pull it out. He stared at Tori, all red-eyed with damp hair plastered to her skin and a dress covered in mud...just like the day he met her. "What if you married me?"

"_What_?" Tori didn't think she'd heard right.

"You could marry me," Gwaine said. He was speaking quickly now, with the desperation of a man in love. "I'll squire for some old knight and become a knight myself. The medicine wouldn't be free, but at least we could afford it."

"But you hate the king. How could you serve him?"

"I love you more than I hate him."

"_Don't_ say that, Gwaine," Tori cried, covering her ears as if she could unhear the words. "It's bloody cruel of you to say that."

"Why?" he asked, angry now. He'd offered what he thought to be a pretty damn good solution – why wasn't she agreeing?

"Because I can't say it back, you dolt, that's why!"

Gwaine stepped closer to her and put his hands on her shaking shoulders. He waited for her to look up at him before he said, "You can. You want to – I can see it written all over your face. C'mon, Tor, just say it and then we can go tell Henry to shove a lance up his arse."

Tori let out a sound that was half laughter, half sob. She looked into Gwaine's eyes – eyes she so often dreamt about – and longed to touch the dark lashes that lined them. Lashes which were, at the moment, stuck together with rainwater. She wanted so badly to accept everything he'd just said, but that would be pure selfishness. One didn't become a knight overnight – it would take half a year, at the least. And Miranda needed her pain relief _now._ She could barely get through the day without grimacing from the hurt. It tore at her, but Tori stepped away from him, and his arms fell limply to his side. "Gwaine," she made sure to say every word as deliberately as she could. "I'm going to marry Henry."

His eyes – so warm just a minute ago – grew cold.

"Don't expect me to be at the wedding."

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><p>He was gone. After those last words he'd walked past Tori as if she didn't even exist anymore. It'd made her feel as cold as the look in his eyes. She knew that her family was having supper at Aunt Marge's house tonight. They'd be there, waiting to warm her and comfort her, but she wanted to be left alone right then. Nothing anyone had to say could possibly soothe the ache she felt in her heart. Her throat hurt with the effort of trying to hold back the tears. But she couldn't cry. Not here, in the middle of the street. Tori was starting to make her way to her empty house when out of nowhere Elen appeared at her side. Where had <em>she <em>come from? Had she seen it all happen, the crumbling of Tori's and Gwaine's relationship? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was here and her arms were open, making Tori realize that she didn't want to be alone at all.

Later, she resolved, maybe after the wedding, she would go talk to Gwaine and they would try to fix what had happened today. Try to get back to normal. Tori knew it was a long shot, but she had to try. Six years couldn't result in...whatever this was.

But what she didn't know was that later that night, Gwaine planned to leave the crescent moon necklace on his pillow, steal a horse from Henry's stables...

...and leave.

* * *

><p><strong>I feel horrible that it took so long to get this chapter up, especially considering the ending that I left you guys on. I'm so grateful to all who reviewed especially <span>YoungSorceress<span> and Ookami. no. Gengetsu for your get-your-butt-back-on-the-computer messages.**

**Also, I must thank InsertDecentNameHere, Maddie Tess, Ardent Apathy, grumpypirate, ToSettleTheScore, Wings of Steel and Bottled Sunshine for your regular feedback. Y'all always make me incredibly happy.**

**And if this fic were a book, I'd dedicate it to Film, Jennifer, Doris and Bec. You guys are my rock(s). :)**

**Okay, done rambling. **


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